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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322191">stanley’s body | it au</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldenbrough/pseuds/angeldenbrough'>angeldenbrough</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Jennifer's Body (2009)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>90s AU, Bill Denbrough Needs a Hug, Bisexual Beverly Marsh, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Eddie Kaspbrak needs two hugs, Fluff and Smut, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gay Mike Hanlon, Gay Richie Tozier, Gay Stanley Uris, Handcuffs, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Oral Fixation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Spanking, Stanley Uris Deserves Better, Stanley Uris Has OCD, a BIT of a daddy kink towards the end, and Richie Tozier needs a cigarette, and bill is a grunge stoner bf, benverly if you squint - Freeform, bill denbrough has BPD, but also period atypical acceptance!!, it au but pennywise still happened- you’ll see what i mean, onesided hanbrough, positive and negative mentions of religion, richie is a mall goth bf, richie listened to marilyn manson once and thinks he can summon satan, slurs being reclaimed, stozier if you squint?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:34:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>182,426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldenbrough/pseuds/angeldenbrough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫▹ 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ</p><p> </p><p> “Maybe if Stanley had just been honest and said he wasn’t a virgin... this wouldn’t be happening right now...”<br/>“Or maybe if you hadn’t tried to get him possessed?”</p><p> </p><p>｡☆𖤐★━━━━━━━━━━━━★𖤐☆｡</p><p>to say the losers have had brushes with the supernatural would be an understatement. and they think they can leave those brushes in the past where they belong. but, just as soon as the losers start their last year of high school, a drunken dare entails more than they could’ve ever imagined...</p><p> </p><p>❝ The story of a boy, his friends, and the corpses of a thousand evil men. ❞</p><p> </p><p>[timelines are tricky but this is based<br/>in the very early 90s, where they are<br/>seniors in high school, and are roughly<br/>all 17 years old, &amp; im at awful summaries]</p><p>｡☆𖤐★━━━━━━━━━━━━★𖤐☆｡</p><p>“Only in this friend group, would an orgy take place after an exorcism.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ch. 1 𖤐 running after stanley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this has been my passion<br/>project for so long, i hope you enjoy this as much as enjoyed writing it :) </p><p>you don’t need to have seen jennifer’s body to understand this story; but you should watch it cause it’s a really good movie. some parts are more loosely based on the movie than other parts</p><p>insert: arbitrary, cliche and obvious fanfiction disclaimer here! i do not own IT or it’s characters! obviously! but those disclaimers always make me laugh/roll my eyes so i had to add it lmao. this was just a fun writing project that helped me take my mind off of my failing mental health</p><p>this is gonna be 9 parts so!! enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟎</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley stood with his back against the cool tile in the unfamiliar kitchen, he had been there many times though. The cool tile was a sharp contrast to his hot body, which still captured the fire he was just sitting besides’ warmth. The kitchen was unfamiliar because it wasn’t his. He sighed longingly as he held the kitchen phone in his hand, his fingers nimbly pressing the keys in the pattern he had pressed so many times before. He often found comfort in numbers. They were neither wrong, or right, they just were. He liked their patterns, he liked them in sync, he liked to write them. Most people thought he only liked numbers because he was so good at math, and that was true, in a sense. But that was causation, not correlation. He was only so good at math, because he was always counting. His obsessive compulsive disorder made it so that he found comfort in them, comfort in the meticulousness of counting. Wether that be counting how many times he’d washed his hands, or counting backwards from one hundred to keep his intrusive thoughts at bay, numbers eased him. In a way many other things couldn’t, they eased him in a way he couldn’t control. He really liked numbers. He was dialling his favourite number, his boyfriend Bill’s. That number gave him the most comfort of all. 207-345-5772. That number was tattooed on his heart in permanent ink. He had a feeling he’d always remember it, the way someone remembered their first pets name, or where they were when they were told really great news. He’d remembered when Bill had first gotten that number, his parents had put in another landline for his 14th birthday. Which, was a huge deal in the late 80s, and still in the early 90s, when they were all now 17, still in high school. Bill had always suspected that there was an ulterior motive behind the gift though. He’d thought it was a way to further close off, to further keep the outside world at bay. Because usually, when his friends called him, they’d have to ask one of his parents to put Bill on the phone. And just that small interaction with another child, someone else’s child, would ruin them for days. They’d never fully healed after Georgie died, and Bill supposed he was the same. But, the wound that was Georgie’s death eventually scabbed over for Bill, whereas it stayed open for Bill’s parents. And it wasn’t just a small cut, it seemed to be a gaping wound, a wound that only got deeper as the days went on, They barely wanted to hear Bill’s voice most of the time, let alone the voice of his friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan dialled the number, carefully placing it to his ear, and held it there with his shoulder. He toyed with the springy cord of the phone wire in his fingers, twirling it ever so slightly as he listened to the dial tone. His heart beating to the tune of it, he hoped that he hadn’t missed Bill. They’d always called each other before they went to sleep, but, had to be very careful to not fall asleep on the other end. Stanley had accidentally done that once, and boy did he get an earful from his parents when the phone bill came. Their nightly calls were a tradition Stanley always looked forward to, and always wanted to keep. It was corny, and they both knew it; but it made the two of them much too happy to make fun of themselves over how much they liked it. Sure, it was a bit childish but, after all they’d been through, they deserved to regress a bit. Of course, he couldn’t wait for the day where they weren’t apart at night. When they lived in a cozy apartment together after high school, liked they’d planned to. And where they would sleep in the same cozy bed, and say their cozy good nights and have their cozy kisses before they went to sleep; like they’d planned. He couldn’t wait for their calls to be unneeded. His heart ached when he wasn’t with Bill, and he knew Bill’s heart did the same when he wasn’t with him. Sometimes, he’d close his eyes, and listen to the calming lull of Bill’s voice as he spoke. He’d be so soothed, and so at peace, he’d actually think Bill was next to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> There were moments, where he’d be so immersed in the mirage, he’d actually turn to kiss him. But, he tried hard to catch himself before he did that, though. But, he had his moments. The phone could only do so much. But until the calls weren’t needed, they’d call each other every night before they went to sleep, to say good night and that they loved each other. And, just because Stanley wasn’t home doesn’t mean that would change anything. Stanley was with the rest of the losers at Richie’s house for a slumber party that night. Well, almost all of the rest of the losers. Bill, sadly, was not there. Bill was currently grounded because he had failed a math test, and his parents wanted to set a precedent that that wouldn’t be acceptable so early in the semester. Bill had never been good at math, or science. He was a creative type, he excelled in the arts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan didn’t know why his parents were so adamant on trying to push him towards being good in math. Stanley was horrible at writing, and couldn’t draw worth anything- and his parents never tried to make him take any of those classes when he didn’t have to. But there Bill was, stuck and rotting away in advanced math during 3rd period- coincidentally right across the hall from an honours creative writing class his parents refused to let him take because they said that it wasn’t practical. Stan was always astonished that his parents never let him be good at anything, never let him be proud of himself. Bill was an amazing artist, a captivating and naturally skilled writer, and fluent in french- but none of that mattered to his parents. Stan never wanted to play armchair psychologist, or armchair family counsellor; but he couldn’t help but wonder why his parents almost didn’t want him to reach his full potential. Maybe it was because if Georgie couldn’t, they didn’t want Bill to be able to do so either. Or maybe it was because they were raised in a generation that only really valued medical professionals as a job worth being proud of, and that creative jobs were too wishy washy to amount to anything. Wether the reason be the ladder or the former, it still deeply upset Stan. But Stan didn’t think that way at all, he believed in Bill. He knew Bill could, and would make it as a writer, and he’d be a successful writer to boot. He told him that every chance he got to, every time Bill showed him his work. And that seemed to be enough for Bill, as long as Stan believed in him, it didn’t really matter so much if his parents did or didn’t. He had long since dismissed them as two people tragically too busy drowning in a sea of grief to ever properly and fully be there for him; and he accepted that as his new reality. His parents were good people, but they were sad people- and in another life, their hearts would’ve been in the right place. Stanley hated that he had grown to just accept it, but he found that complacency had helped Bill keep his head above water. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> And Stan had to grow to accept that Bill had accepted it; he figured that maybe complacency was to Bill what numbers were to him, on a much lesser scale, obviously. Stanley tried in every way he knew how to give him love and encouragement in ways his parents couldn’t, in ways his parents didn’t, and never did. He wanted more than anything for Bill to know he deserved more, even if he was okay with settling for less. Bill had grown dependent on that, and the older they got, Bill needed Stan there for him more than anything else. No matter how unstable he or his self image was, no matter how impulsive he could sometimes get; Stan was always there for him. He would always comfort him, be there for him after a bad dissociation, and never once complained, or was unhappy to do so. He was the steady, levelheadedness Bill needed, desperately. 



His efforts to avoid abandonment were often frantic and erratic, but he knew Stan would never abandon him. He needed more than anything to know that. Bill’s love for Stan was intense, and Stan was more than happy to be loved like that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan always had him over to help tutor him, ever since they were kids. And his tutoring was very effective when they were younger. Bill would even later admit that he pretended to know a lot less than what he actually knew, just so he could stay at Stan’s house a few hours longer. Just so he could listen to him carefully explain functions, over and over again. So his stares could linger, and mind could wander for just a few hours more. But now, that they were finally a couple, whenever Bill came over to have Stan help him with his homework- math was always the least bit of their concern. Studying was the last thing that got done. And the night before Bill’s most recent math test was no exception. Stanley had tried to keep him on task, he’d reminded him the day after the test and on the day Bill had gotten the failing grade back- but Bill didn’t care then, and didn’t care now. He’d much rather explore Stanley, than the concepts of quadratics. Or put less eloquently; he’d rather do his boyfriend than his homework. And Stanley felt the same way, although he did feel a tinge of guilt when Bill failed. But nevertheless, Bill did fail. And because of that, he wasn’t allowed to hang out with his friends for a month, or until his parents forgot about the punishment and stopped enforcing it; whichever came first. And usually, it was the ladder. Stanley hated that punishment nearly as much as Bill did; because whenever Bill was grounded- that usually meant Stan was grounded too. Who was he going to hang out with?? Who was he going to see after school? Who was going to go bird watching with him? Who was going to read him the stories they wrote, or show him their sketches from art class? Who was going to take him places? Sure, he had 5 other friends- but they weren’t Bill. And they could never be as fun to hang out with as Bill. But, Richie was having them all over for a sleepover, and Stan had to admit, he was having a pretty great time. He thought about not going in solidarity with Bill, but he tossed that idea away nearly as quickly as it came to mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hated being away from Bill, he really did. Being apart from him, really made Stan reminisce on his best qualities. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and they are absolutely true. Stan missed the way Bill laughed, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled- his smile, don’t even get him started on his smile. To say it lit up a room, might obviously be a cliche expression, if not hyperbole. But, to say it lit up Stan’s life was not. It made him feel warm, and made him feel safe; it was a reassurance that things were okay. He missed that warmth, he felt cold without it. Jokes were so much funnier when Bill was laughing at them too. So many times that night, he caught himself turning to look at Bill when something the others said reminded him of an inside joke the two shared. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

Or he’d catch himself about to pull on Bill’s sleeve when he wanted to tell him something, but obviously couldn’t. He especially missed the way Bill’s smooth voice would fill a void in conversion, Bill always had a way of doing that, and doing it so effortlessly too. Bill was easy to talk to, he was easy for anyone to talk to. And he had been a lot easier to talk to in their late teenage years, his stutter now gone for the most part, and the high pitched, quivering voice it came with now gone too. His voice was strong, just like he was. And boy, did Stan miss it. And almost right on cue, Stan finally heard the dial tone end and Bill’s voice begin. “Richie- what the fuck are you doing calling me, it’s midnight, dude-“ He spoke, interrupted by Stan’s giggle, that made him laugh softly too, Stan’s cute giggles had an beautifully infectious quality to them, Bill had always found. “‘s not Richie who’s calling you...” Stan spoke in a singsong tone of voice, flirt prevalent in the cheerful, yet a bit tired, tone. “Well I know that now.... Hi baby...” Bill spoke softly into the phone, touched he was still keeping to their tradition of wishing each other good night. Bill’s voice was much softer now that he knew he was speaking to Stanley. Bill spoke in a different manner than how he usually did when he was talking to Stan, it was softer, warmer, kinder. Barriers had been broken between them, he wasn’t putting up a defensive front around Stanley as he did with nearly everyone else, and it was very evident in how he spoke. Stan blushed at the term of endearment through the phone, baby was one of his favourite things that Bill called him. It made him feel vulnerable, in a good way though. He felt vulnerable, but knew that Bill was there to protect him; it made him feel cute. “Hi.....” Stan spoke slowly, and Bill could now definitely tell Stan was drunk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He could read him like a book, even if the pages weren’t in front of him. “I miss you...” Stan continued, curling the phone cord in between his fingers and sighing longingly and lovingly. “I miss you too baby, you having a good time over there?” Bill asked, and Stanley giggled, “Yah, yah, I’m having lots of fun. We’re outside right now, well. We were, obviously I’m not outside right now or else I wouldn’t be on the phone with you- haha!” His answer trailed off into laughed, and Bill couldn’t help but smile on the other end of the phone. It was obvious they’d been drinking, and Stan was such a lightweight it wasn’t even funny, and he was seriously too adorable like this. The topic of conversation Stan had was now lost, but Bill was more than happy to wait for him to find it again. “And yah, we’re outside and Richie’s having a bonfire outside. And Bev brought wine coolers from her house- and they’re super good. And yah, I’m having a lot of fun. I’d be having so much more fun if you were here though...” His voice growing a bit sad as he stopped speaking, and that was a sadness Bill shared. He wished he was there, and he was also touched by Stan’s sentiment. “I wish I was there with you too baby, I’ll do better on my next test so I can be there...” Stan giggled, “You better!! You’d better see your math tutor some more...” His sadness completely lost, the flirting tone back in his voice now more than ever. “Oh yah, definitely... I’m thinking, the second I’m no longer grounded, I’m seeing my tutor.. at least every day after school...” Bill played along with Stan’s joke, “Wow.. so dedicated to your studies... you gonna see him on weekends, too?” Stan asked with pretend curiosity, and Bill responded, “Oh of course. Well, except Shabbat, he’s busy then...” Stan was touched he’d remembered the name and pronounced it correctly- it was the little things that always made Stan feel so lucky. “Oh gosh, you’re taking this very seriously, what were you thinking of working on..” “I’m not sure, but I can assure you, my tutor won’t be doing all the work...” Stanley could read between the lines on what that meant. “Oh really...” He spoke in short sentences, trying his best to not show how flustered he was quickly becoming. It really didn’t take much to get him flustered, Bill had come to know all too well. “Oh yah, And ya know, come to think of it... I think I might have to teach him somethings too..” Bill continued, a purr of seduction ever present. “I really think you should,” Stanley’s blush deepened in colour as he thought more about what Bill was saying on the other end of the phone. “Now that I think about it, I wanna work on numbers... too, really gonna try and focus on 69..” Bill and Stanley both laughed, “We were on a roll there with good innuendos but.. you have to ruin it with something not even Richie would say...” Stan teased, Bill scoffed, “Yah yah yah.... And I really should see my math tutor soon... punish him for distracting me so much while I’m trying to study..” Bill saw Stan’s flirt, and raised him a hint of seduction. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

Stan didn’t know wether to defend himself, and point out that it was him who always derails their studying sessions, never the other way around- or continue with where that train of thought was going because it was already starting to send shivers down his spine. “Mhmm... I think your math tutor could do with some punishment, even though, one could argue that it wouldn’t be deserved...” He decided to go with both, which, even though he didn’t know it, was very successful. It aroused Bill to no end, and also made him laugh a bit at his playful jab. “I’m gonna let you go, I don’t want to keep you from the losers,” Bill spoke with audible exhaustion. “No, it’s no issue, I can stay and talk longer...” Stanley interjected, “Fine, lemme rephrase that, I’m very, very tired, and want to go to sleep. I love you Stan,” and Stanley chuckled, “Fair enough, good night Bill, love you lots, good night,” Stan spoke softly. His finger was hovering over the ‘end call’ button, before Bill remembered that Stan was very evidently, a bit drunk, and not necessarily in the best of care, said, “Stay safe, okay?” Bill spoke quickly. Stan laughed, “Of course I will,” he reassured as Bill hung up. Bill always had to be the one to hang up, they’d both learned the hard way that that would cause Bill great distress. It was the little things that made Bill feel abandoned, and gut wrenchingly lonely. His worries may have seemed out of place, but wasn’t totally out of his character, though. Bill was always skiddish and scared of loss, and was convinced everyone was on deaths doorstep at all times. The sudden loss of his brother and all he had been through since had made him that way. He was protective, and always ready to step into the hero role he was forced to step into when he was way too young; especially whenever Stan was concerned. He found his worries sweet, but unfounded; he was perfectly fine. Well, as perfectly fine as you could be in Derry, Maine. Stan was careful to not wake up Richie’s parents upstairs. He careful set the phone back on the hook, and carefully got out of the kitchen, walked through the living room that connected to it, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards Richie told him to avoid as to not wake his parents up. He slid open the sliding glass door and walked outside to join his friends again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley closed the door quietly as he stepped on the patio, and repeated that 10 more times, he liked to do things in sets of 11- that brought him comfort. He needed to do things in 11s. And his steps louder now. He was no longer walking on his tippy toes, and could make noise again. The creaking of the wood floorboards of Richie’s deck felt familiar, the sound brought back a calming wave of nostalgia over him. They’d been best friends since they were little kids, they had spent a lot of spring and summer days in his backyard. Playing in the sprinklers, family barbecues with the Toziers, sleepovers like these; it was moments of happy reminiscence that made Stan have a feeling Richie would be in his life forever; all the losers would be. The grass was already starting to get a bit dewy at the late night hour, the bottoms of his bare feet getting a bit damper with each step he took. He joined his friends, taking his seat back again next to Mike and Bev on the old lawn chairs surrounding the fire pit in Richie’s backyard. They all sat in a circle of creaky lawn chairs, except for Ben; he had chosen to sit on the ground when they all had gotten there. He said he liked the feeling of the ground better, but Stanley knew better. Being able to read Bill so well, made him better at reading others well too. He could tell when someone was full of it, he was quiet and cared for his friends very deeply- so he picked up on everything. Stanley knew he chose to sit on the ground because he was scared of breaking one of Richie’s chairs- a paranoia that made Stan’s heart break. He felt bad that so many people had Ben think of outcomes like that; outcomes that weren’t at all possible, but his insecurities festered and made them seem so. He longed for a day where his friend didn’t feel that way. He sat down, the group was laughing just the same as when he had left- and he assumed that there hadn’t even been a dull second. He loved his friend group so much, they all clicked so well. He knew he was so lucky to have the friends he did, and small moments like that made him realize them all the more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Richie was the first to break his laughter, welcoming Stan back in the only way he knew how. “Jeez, Stan, took you long enough. I was starting to wonder what you were doin in there,” He said, arousing some light laughter from the rest, “You better not have been having phone sex in my kitchen Stanley the Manley.... I call my grandma with that phone ya know... I don’t want you defiling it,” he continued. Stan couldn’t help but blush at his statement- out of the sheer thought of it.  He was such a timid person, and any discussion about sex or anything remotely related to sex made him turn bright red and stammer. Bill found it adorable, Stan thought it was embarrassing, Richie found it hilarious and used it to his advantage and at Stan’s expense whenever he could work it into conversation. It was hard being friends with Richie sometimes. Even in the dark night, the warm orange glow illuminated his face just enough so Richie could notice his blush from across the circle. He cocked an eyebrow in suspicion, and laughed to himself, “What are you blushing about....” Richie inquired in a mock singsong voice, being Stan Uris’ best friend meant an extensive knowledge on how to not only embarrass him, but get under his skin. “N-nothing....” Stan stuttered, curling into his seat, similar to how a snail curls into its shell. Except, Stan was protecting himself from embarrassment, not nature. “Shit, Stan, you call Bill too much, you’re even starting to stutter like him,” Richie joked, eliciting more laughter from the circle of friends, Stan laughed a bit too. He hated to admit it, but Richie had his moments of humour, even if it was at his expense some of the time. “Yah yah yah, I think it’s cute how they call each other and shit,” Bev spoke matter of factly, taking a puff of her cigarette and blowing it into Richie’s face, who in turn did the same with his. Bev always spoke with a calm, smooth essence to her voice, Stan always admired that, he thought it was so cool how she carried herself. She was the type of person that you felt proud to be friends with. He felt good to have her stick up for him. 



He smiled a soft and thankful smile at her, only meant to be seen my her and it was returned with a “don’t mention it” smirk only meant to be noticeable to Stan; and it was. “Yah, whatever Beaverly. Anyways, Stanney, perfect timing! I think it’s your turn... Stan. Truth or dare,” He asked, his question started off being asked in his regular voice, but ended in a weird half irish, half english accent- one of his new ‘voices’ he’d been trying to do lately. It had a backstory, it was either a secret agent, or the queen of england’s butler- he couldn’t quite remember. Stan thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of either choice. “Truth,” He finally decided, taking a sip from the drink that rested against the metal leg of his chair. He spoke confidentially, knowing that when playing truth or dare with Richie; truth was the lesser of two evils. Because usually, truth was just something stupid, childish, embarrassing, or all at the same time. And he had no shame, generally speaking, when it came to the losers- none of them did. Once you fight an evil clown with your best friends, nothing is really “off limits” anymore. But dare; dare was a completely different story. For one, it usually meant getting up- and Stan had gotten quite comfortable by the fire, and curled up in his oversized sweater. And, it usually meant something extremely stupid, and most of the time dangerous, and some of the time borderline illegal. And he’d make you do them, and if you didn’t- he’d hold it over your head forever. While Richie’s dares had contributed to some pretty fun stories- like the time he dared Eddie to ride one of the sheep on Mike’s farm like a horse; or the time he dared Bill to spray paint “BI RIGHTZ” on the ‘Welcome to Derry, Maine!’ sign you drive by when you enter the town on its outskirts. He also still reminded the whole group of all the stuff they didn’t do. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley could recall the would be dares, almost as well as he could remember the ones that were actually completed. Like the one time, in 8th grade when Richie dared Ben to play jenga with all the books at the public Derry library. Or the time when Richie had somehow taken some of the anesthesia from his fathers dental office and dared Bev to eat some. Which, she was actually considering doing, especially with Richie’s bargaining of, “I will if you will,”; it was the others (mainly Stan, Mike and Eddie- the only ones in the group that had any common sense) who didn’t let her follow through with that genius idea. Stan could remember all those fondly, and he was sure the others could too. He didn’t want to be in one of those types of stories, so as always, his rationality won over him, and he picked truth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie opened his mouth to speak as soon as the word ‘Truth’ left Stanley’s mouth. As if he’d had his question locked and loaded, ready to be asked the whole time. He knew Stan was going to pick truth, he knew Stan all to well; he knew the ins and outs of his thought process. “What’s the farthest you’ve gone with Bill...”, the group making exaggerated gasps as Richie asked a question so personal and invasive, it would only be asked by Richie. Stanley changed the way he was sitting, bringing his knees to his chest and bugging them close to him. His face grew hot, and he knew that wasn’t just because of the radiating heat of the fire. He quickly grew embarrassed and he hadn’t even said anything, he wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t sure wether to be honest or not because- it wasn’t just his business, it was Bill’s. And he felt bad speaking on his behalf when he wasn’t there to say wether it was okay to divulge such intimate details. “You picked truth Stanney......” Richie reminded him, breaking the silence that was only previously being filled by the crackling of the fire burning up what was left of the firewood, and Stan’s silence. And Richie didn’t know if that silence was telling or not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Beverly looked at Richie in a way as to say, ‘lay off’ to get him to drop the question, sensing it was making Stan a bit uncomfortable. It was a way that only Bev could convey a message through a facial expression, it was a look of aggression that was subtle yet indisputable. Looking at him with wide eyes in a way to say, ‘Drop it’. But as always, Richie never knew when to shut up- or, maybe he did, and just chose not to. “Cmon.... Stanney, the world wants to know, is Big Bill, REALLY Big Bill,” wiggling his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner behind the thick plastic rims of his coke bottle glasses. Now Stan was really blushing, his face felt so hot he considered sticking his face in the fire in front of him to cool it off. Stan’s heart was beating out of chest, seemingly in time with the flickering of the fireflies that illuminated the darkness of the night sky around them. He could feel all the eyes on him, waiting for his answer- an answer Stan was not going to give. Richie was trying to read his silence, seeing in thats where his answer lied. “So, Stan the man..... IS a virgin...” He asked, taking a dramatic pause between his words and taking a drink from his second wine cooler of the night. Stan couldn’t help but notice how what teenage cliches they all were. Stanley decided to leave his retort ambiguous, steadying himself to not give anything away. “You’re a virgin.” Stanley spoke point blankly, taking a page from Bev’s playbook and speaking with flat confidence. He released his knees from his chest, crossing his left leg over his right as he relaxed his shoulders, no longer burying his face in his knees, he stared at Richie. The tables were turned now, or Stan at least hoped so, anyways. “Am not-“, and Richie laughed, realizing how immature they sounded at that moment. This wasn’t his proudest moment, nor the most meaningful conversation. Just as Richie is about to say something again, Eddie rolls his eyes, and the group snickers at his obvious annoyance; because Stan and Richie were both looking at him, in hopes he would prove or disprove either of their points. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan was very happy the topic of conversion was someone switched onto something else, switched onto someone else. Someone else was very happy, too. Mike Hanlon, who was sitting to his right, was very happy about it too. His shoulders noticeably relaxed; and he didn’t look so troubled- his focus was back on the conversion, rather than trying to tune it out to the best of his ability. His secret crush (or rather, not so secret) on Bill was an open secret in their friend group. Known to everyone, except the man himself, Bill. Wether that ignorance being willful or otherwise. It was an innocent crush, Mike never made it an issue, and no one else ever made it an issue. He did a great job of keeping it hidden, and never really brought it up to anyone, it was always known; but never talked about. It was a tacenda more so than anything else. Mike was a very private person, even amongst his best friends, and he chose to keep most of his emotions to himself. Especially his emotions regarding his crush on Bill; what could he have even said? Stanley was one of his best friends too, and he was genuinely happy that they had gotten together. They had known each other for many years before they had met him, he was happy for them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was happy for them but, didn’t want to hear about it. Maybe if he said he was happy for them enough, it would be true; he could believe it. He hoped that over time it would be easier to deal with, but it didn’t. He supposed he just got more used to it, but it wasn’t easier. It hurt to see the way Bill looked at Stanley, and to see the way that Stanley could look back. It hurt that Bill would never know about his feelings, because he could never tell him. He felt guilt for liking his best friends boyfriend, who also happened to be his other best friend. That was just one of the cons of having a small friend group, at some point, everyone would like everyone- and it was messy, and it hurt. Mike wouldn’t trade his friend group for anything, he just wished it was easier, that was all. The PDA hurt, all of the hickeys that peaked through Stanley’s collars hurt because he knew where they had come from, the ‘Oh sorry Mike, not tonight, I’m busy hanging out with Stanley. Some other time, though!’s hurt, but this was just starting to get downright painful. Mike was almost as relieved as Stan was that the conversion was over and done with. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The relief faded as quickly as it came to him. Stanley spoke up again, trying to blur the lines and leave the answer open, up in the air. He spoke lose and ambiguously, not really answering the question either way, and they all thought it was so funny that it annoyed Richie so much. Stan giggled, almost to himself, taking another sip from his drink, which only helped him speak more candidly. Stan’s face as flushed as ever as he spoke, “What makes you think he’d even want to do that kind of thing... anyways...” Stan mused, and that was definitely not spoken to himself. Richie thought for a moment, and laughed. He took another puff of his cigarette, and flicked the ashes off of it into the fire. He wrapped an arm tightly around the shoulders of his boyfriend Eddie, pulling him closer just in case he was cold- but really just because he wanted to be closer to him. Careful not to blow any smoke into his face though, Eddie was a fan of how smoke tasted on his lips after they kissed- but hated the way it smelled; and was terribly fearful he would get second hand smoke damage. He had all of the worst statistics memorized, and carried his sources laminated on paper around in one of his fannypacks in case Richie ever wanted to doubt him. He would say things like, “It’s more dangerous to be around someone who smokes, than to smoke? Did you know that? Did you also know that 1/3 americans have a smoking related illness. Did you also know cancer is the 2nd highest cause of death in the state of Maine. Bet you didn’t. You know now though-“ And so on and so forth, and would say them so often even the non smokers had it memorized. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stanley thought Eddie was doing a much better job of keeping them away from drugs, than any PSA done by President Bush at the time. Richie would always kiss and dismiss what he said, and light another cigarette for the hell of it, “Angel, you have a higher chance of getting killed by a fucking clown in this town, than cancer. I’m fine,” But his heart would always swell at how much his boyfriend worried about him, though. And as always, Eddie fought back the urge to say something, literally- he bit his lip so hard Stan was surprised it wasn’t bleeding. He sat quietly next to Richie as he flicked the dark grey ashes off his cigarette, letting them fall like snowflakes into the fire in front of them. Stan thought it was pretty to watch them burn as his eyes followed them. “Of course he would, he’s always sportin a partial when you’re around-“ Richie’s words much more vulgar than Stan would’ve expected, “BEEP BEEP-,” Stanley spoke, a simple expression that spoke volumes, and carried a lot of weight in their friend group. It said more than most words could. “-Richie,” Ben continued for him, and Stan laughed and thanked him, “Zip zee lip, Haystack. Ze grown ups are how you say, speaking” Richie retorted, his laughter joining theirs, he spoke in a terrible french accent, Stanley could only assume was horribly inaccurate and probably offensive, that was another one of his new voices he’d been trying to integrate in his routine. Stanley remembered the day he had thought of that character, and to find Bill. Bill had been taking french all throughout high school as a last resort effort to try and alleviate his stutter. The idea was, when he couldn’t speak and get the words out in english, he could speak in french- and hopefully the skills would transfer over in time. And oddly enough, that method was the only successful one- and Bill kicked himself and cursed all the wasted hours going up to Bangor to do speech therapy, when he could’ve just done that this whole time. Stan could remember Richie running up to Bill, grabbing him by the shoulders, and begging him to teach him all the profanity he knew in french- nothing else, though. Only curse words, and he said he had a new idea for a voice that was, “Going to change comedy forever bro, I swear to fucking Christ and shit-“ and Stan could attest, it didn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though the truth or dare game was temporary on pause, the others didn’t really care all that much. They were entertained by the juvenile banter. And as well, amused by how well Richie could push Stan’s buttons. Stan was never this immature, and sure as hell never this vulgar- they all knew damn well he wouldn’t entertain this conversion sober. This was really a sight to see, and would no doubt never happen again. His tipsiness only made him more effervescently embarrassed. “Since Stanley refuses to say, I must consult the counsel. Let’s cast votes, all in favour- do you think Stan’s fucked before?” The gang laughed, and Stan himself tried to hold back a giggle- he was too tipsy to act like he was above this conversion. Richie and Bev raised their right hands. “All opposed...” and Stanley laughed, and Richie paused at the interjection. “I’m sorry but, I don’t think you know what opposed means. You aren’t using it right.” Richie rolled his eyes, “Well, in this context I think I am,” Richie didn’t know what most words meant sober, let alone wine drunk, and it annoyed him that Stanley still could correct him after 3 boxed wines later, and finishing off Ben and Bev’s. “I am talking about context. Opposed, in most contexts, means something contrasts, or is eager to prevent something. You are not insinuating to prevent me losing my virginity, you are speculating about it. In this context, it would be more accurate to say agree, or agree in its other forms. You would say, all those in disagreement. Usually someone is opposed to a thing, not a statement.” Richie sighed, “Fine, fine, all those who AREN’T in favour, ‘cause Stan wants to be prissy about shit,” And Eddie and Ben raised their right hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stanley giggled, and Richie didn’t know what that was telling of, he couldn’t decide wether that meant they were right or wrong. Richie smiled at his giggle, “There we go, that’s what I like to see, I like to see drunk idiot Stan who’s gonna wake up with a hangover in the morning. Not drunk asshole Stan who makes me sound like an idiot,” Stan scoffed playfully, “You make yourself look like an idiot, I just happen to point it out,” And Eddie laughed harder than he meant to at that remark, and leaned over to kiss Richie on the neck for a brief second, just so he knew there were no hard feelings. Richie tried not to get flustered, and picked at the peeling black nail polish on his fingers when Stanley noticed that blush, and brought attention to it. “Shut up, Stan Urine,” Richie spoke, “No thanks, I’m good.. Dick Tozier.” Richie clenched his teeth and cringed, “Hey hey hey, I thought we had an agreement here. We don’t call me Dick, we don’t call Mike, Mac. We don’t call Eddie, Ned or Edward either. Jeez Stan, you really take the fact you don’t have a shortform-able first name for granted,” And Stanley smirked. Just because Richie knew how to press his buttons, doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to press some back. “Yah, we don’t call Bev, Beverage; even though that’s obviously what it’s short for...” Eddie joked, and the gang laughed at the awful pun. “This is a question you can answer about Bill, Stan. What’s Bill short for, Billiam, or, Bhilip?” And Stan nearly giggled so hard, he nearly had cheap peach wine come out his nose, “Oh, Bhilip, definitely,”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie laughed, but his mind was obviously elsewhere, his eyes were a bit glazed over as he thought. He noticed that Mike hadn’t raised his hand for either of the options he jokingly presented, and he could sense this was making him a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than it was making Stan. He wasn’t always the best at reading people, but he could read them enough. And it was obvious just by looking at him. Not that his crush on Bill was inherently obvious, but it wasn’t a secret by any means either. It was in plain sight if you looked hard enough, he just hadn’t noticed until right that moment. So, for his sake, he changed the subject. Richie turned to look at Eddie, shifting his legs in his chair as he turned. “Eds, truth or dare” Stan looked at him with a pretend look of shock and offence, “I thought it was my turn to ask someone?” Stanley asked, he wondered why there was even a bit of genuine surprise though. He never played anything by the rules, so why wound this stupid game be any different. Richie scoffed, “Yah, maybe. But, you forfeit when you didn’t answer. You don’t follow the rules, and I don’t either,” and Stan could only roll his eyes. Richie continued, “You’re inturupting my dear, sweet boyfriend who’s actually gonna FOLLOW THE RULES, Staniel-“ Announcing his words more prominently with a shout, and tightened his grip around Eddie‘s shoulders for effect. And placed a kiss on his cheek in mock offence, in a way to embarrass him, with corny affection. But, mostly because he liked to do things like that. Richie had waited a very, very long time to be able to kiss Eddie like that. So he often kissed Eddie, just because he could; just because he loved him. And Eddie reciprocated for the very same reason, he’d waited a very long time to be doted on by Richie just because he could. They’d gotten together a few months after Stan and Bill; in the 11th grade. Bill’s confession to Stan inspired Richie to finally get the courage to confess his long held and long secretive feelings to Eddie. After all they’d been through, they knew better than anyone else (they especially knew than anyone else their own age) how short life could truly be, and didn’t want to waste another second of it not with the people they’d loved secretly for so long. And the rest for both of the couples, was history. A very happy history, that they were eager to write with each passing day. And now, they laughed at how long they had waited to confess to each other. Cursing themselves for waiting so long to be as happy as they were right now, for so long. Knowing now that the angst and inner turmoil, and resulting guilt they felt over having a crush on their best friend was all for nothing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Their feelings of misery nothing but wasted energy and wasted tears. Knowing now more than every that happiness was unknowingly so close to them; but hindsight always kicked in after the fact, didn’t it? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie thought for a moment, and weighed his options. Figuring that Richie already knew enough about him; so he’d probably just ask something stupidly embarrassing in front of the rest of their friend group. And, he decided that doing something stupid was better than being verbally embarrassed, he answered simply, “Dare,”. And Richie opened his mouth to speak as quickly as he did when Stan had answered truth. And Eddie knew Richie better than anyone, so he knew that Richie cape to every sleepover with an objective. He came to every gathering with preplanned questions for each of them, and he was no exception. The only question was, what was preplanned for Eddie, and the look in Richie’s eye worried him a bit. Richie always specially and specifically designed his dares to fit the personality of each of his friends; so the most embarrassment could be caused with each one. And he knew Eddie the best so, Eddie could only imagine what Richie could come up with. 



But in all his years, Eddie would’ve never been able to imagine what Richie was about to say- no matter how much time you could give him to think it over. And Eddie certainly could’ve never predicted the ramifications of what Richie was about to say. None of them sitting in that circle, on that warm September night, knew full well what they had gotten themselves into when they sat down to play truth or dare that night. “Ok, your dare is......” Richie spoke, a smile already on his face as he tried to hold back his laughter- he knew Eddie’s reaction was going to be priceless. Richie would’ve asked for a drumroll, but he had learned that by asking for a drumroll, that had a tendency to overhype something. And he found that his material landed best when he undersold something, rather than oversold it. “Let us sacrifice you to satan like in that movie you’re too scared to see with me,” Laughing immediately as the words left his mouth, watching how quickly Eddie’s jaw almost hit the ground. Eddie was scared of anything remotely paranormal, completely and utterly petrified. He hated scary movies, no matter how low budget and cheesy- they gave him nightmares no matter what. He believed every scary story, every scary myth, every ghost story he’d ever been told. He had always refused to go see horror movies with Richie, no matter how many times he persisted, and tried to drag him to one. Richie was the complete opposite of his boyfriend, he loved horror movies. He drawn to them for the same reason he was drawn to offensive comedy; he appreciated the shock value of it all. He didn’t particularly believe any of it, he just liked to he shocked, he liked to be scared. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He, like many teenagers in the 90s, was particularly interested with the occult. Neither he, nor Eddie were religious; and subscribed to the same basic principles of atheism. But, they both had very different views on the occult. Eddie wasn’t really raised catholic, he had attended the public school system all his life; but he had been raised with a very strict sense of right and wrong- or rather, his mothers view of right and wrong. She regularly used the imagery of God, and the Devil to encourage good behaviour, and demonize, no pun intended, bad behaviour. Eddie always thought that it was funny how much she picked and chose what to believe; that her morality was defined by a religion she didn’t even particularly subscribe to. But nevertheless, he had always had a very big fear of the devil, and all that came with it. He was petrified at the thought of anything having to do with the occult. His boyfriend, was and felt the exact opposite. He was raised in a very, very religious household. His parents were very strict Methodists, who dragged him to church with them every Sunday, and dragged him to Sunday school afterwards. The church had been a very intrusive part of his childhood and household growing up. He didn’t believe a word of any of it now, so that led to a disbelief in the occult too. He thought it was odd for Eddie to have a disbelief in one, but a fear of the other- he wondered how someone could not believe in heaven per se, but fear hell. He didn’t believe in any of it, and his fascination in it had more to do with shock value than anything else. He thrived off attention from others, negative or positive. He liked a bit of controversy, and that controversy followed him and his best friends around wherever he went. A small, religious, conservative town like Derry didn’t take to kindly to two gay couples, especially not in the early 90s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

Richie sort of liked all the dirty looks he got. He didn’t care much for the looks of disgust, obviously- but he did like the way some of his peers looked as if they were a bit afraid of him. Richie thought it was funny how some of the kids in his classes looked at them as if he would suck their blood in the middle of homeroom or something. He liked being the lanky, tall, gay kid in all black homophobes didn’t want to sit next to. Whereas Bill, Stan, and Eddie did not like it at all whatsoever, he sort of had a sick liking for being called a slur because he was 1/4 of the only gay couples in their entire high school. He thrived off being able to make others mad, he thought there was no better feat to get under someone’s skin- to illicit such a response. And that’s why he sort of liked the occult and that sort of thing. He liked to scare and shock people, almost as much as he liked to be scared and to be shocked. He liked getting sent to the principles office because he wore his “Shout At The Devil” shirt to school, or making his parents mad when he painted his nails black, or getting in trouble from his parents because he had a poster with a pentagram on it hanging in his room, he liked to be controversial. He didn’t at all thing he could actually get Eddie possessed by the devil, he just wanted to do it as a joke, test the boundaries a bit and shock his friends. Eddie laughed out of sheer disbelief that he had even said that, unsure of wether he’d actually heard those words leave his boyfriends house. His face turned pale white at the thought, though. He could feel himself start to sweat and his heart start to race at the very idea of it. “Are you fucking kidding me? No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO! A MILLION TIMES FUCKING NO. Don’t even say the name- devil- bad shit happens.” Eddie spoke, his speech a bit stammered and a bit quickened by fear. He would probably overthink and overreact, driving himself to critical hysterics as he usually did. Stan couldn’t help but laugh at the way Eddie was getting so scared over something so silly. Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him, nonverbally asking him to explain his laughter. Stanley did. “You can’t actually be scared of stuff like that, right?” Stan asked, and Eddie scoffed, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

“And you aren’t?”. Stan nodded, and said as he always did when anything paranormal, satanic, occult, or anything else of the sort was brought up in conversion- “Because such things just aren’t empirically possible.” Speaking flatly and confidently, as if that was that, simple and unchanging; a fact of life the others needed to accept. Bill thought it was cute when he said things like that, the others thought it was laughable; and if anything, a tad annoying. Stanley feared the wrath of God, not satan, because his religious compulsions told him to. His friend group had fought living proof things like that were possible, and yet Stan said things like that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan hated horror movies too, but for a completely different reason, the opposite reason. Eddie hated them because of a belief in them, Stan hated them for a lack there of. Stan didn’t believe in ghosts, demons, the occult, ghouls, or anything else in the movies Richie would make him watch when Eddie got too scared to and refused. Stan thought it was all a waste of time, and it was all foolish anyways. Stan did believe in the devil but not in the, sense that you could summon him- or whatever the hell Richie was talking about. He wasn’t going to dignify this conversation by getting into a deep topic of discussion on his in depth religious beliefs, and the relationship between God and Man, and right and wrong that went along with those beliefs- because that’s not what Richie meant. Stan viewed the Devil as a symbol, a personification for wrongs and evils- Richie saw the devil as a red demon with horns and a tail that could be summoned, or communicated with through a Ouija Board. Stan thought it was a waste of energy, a waste of fear to fear stuff like that- and wanted Eddie to see that too. He feared rational things, like the collapse of the stock market- that was a much more rational thing to fear. Maybe not a rational thing for a 17 year old boy to fear, but he still thought he was better off worrying about that, than a monster. Eddie spoke a frantic retort, starting off by telling Stan to not even get him started- but then getting started. Talking about all the valid reasons there were to fear the paranormal and the occult; reasons that weren’t strong enough to convince Stanley even if he had been listening. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>



Instead, his tipsy brain was thinking of a way to help his friend overcome these fears, and saw through the logical lens through which Stan also saw the world. He was the only other member of the group who had levelheaded common sense, and he wanted Eddie to have it completely. Stan knew his gullibility was not his fault, and he was only a product of the environment in which he was raised. He had dismissed his placebo pills, and was privy to the fact they did nothing. Stan wanted Eddie to be privy to the fact his fears were nothing to fear as well, they could do nothing because they were nothing. Stanley interrupted Eddie’s tangent, “Yah know what Richie, Ill do the dare in place of Eddie,” and Richie nearly did a spit take, “Really???” And Stan nodded, leaning more back in his seat, not scared at all. “Well yah, satan isn’t real- or at least, isn’t real in the sense you’re talking about. And probably the means in which to summon him were not portrayed very accurately in the movie you watched. So yah, sacrifice me instead. Nothing’s gonna happen, and Eddie can be put more at ease, knowing most of his fears are bullshit,” Stan looked over to Eddie, who was smiling slightly at him, he was touched Stan would be willing to do something like that to reassure him, to put him a bit more at ease. “So, lemme get this straight- you won’t say wether you’re a virgin, but you’re willing to be sacrificed to satan?” Bev asked, laughing in disbelief, and Stan nodded, smiling as he thought about what Bev had just said. “Well yah, one proves my point, the other is just stupid. You can’t fear anything when you know nothing will happen,” It was Richie’s turn to roll his eyes, he had a feeling that that confidence was masking something much more real. He had a funny feeling that Stan was actually afraid, but in denial of it. Sure that somewhere; deep down, maybe even very, very deep down- there laid fear. But, whatever helped him sleep at night, he supposed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

“Even if does work, Satan probably has better things to do than possess one of us,” Mike said with a laugh, and Stan laughed too, “My thoughts exactly,” Stan paused for a second, and switched his gaze from Mike to the direction of Richie and Eddie. Eddie was no longer holding on to Richie with a desperate tight grip, which was telling- he wasn’t as scared anymore. Stan’s confident disbelief was already putting him a bit at ease, he wouldn’t ever say that- but his actions spoke louder than he could. “It’s not like we’re gonna even summon the devil anyways- sorry; Satan,” Correcting himself for Eddie’s sake, remembering what he had said about that earlier. “Richie just listened to one Marilyn Manson album and thinks he knows everything” Richie laughed with the rest of the group, maybe there was some truth to what he said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s only got one, dummy. But anyways, you’re like, a hundred percent sure?” Richie asked, unable to believe what he was hearing, it wasn’t every day Stan went along with something stupid he suggested, even if going along with it would prove one of his points. Stanley thought for a moment, making sure he was sure as well- and mentally kicked himself for doubting himself, and where he stood on this. He didn’t want to let either of them get in his head anymore, he sighed, “Mhmm. Just do whatever it said to do in the movie,”. Richie thought back to the movie he’d seen by himself, alone, the previous weekend. He wanted to make sure he had the timeline of the movie right, so he could make sure to follow it correctly, he was interested to see where this was going to go. He thought he was going to ask Eddie, he’d say no, and that would be the end of it. He hadn’t expected it to go this way. “Really?” Richie asked again, and Stanley thought that if Richie asked him if he was sure one more time he’d start to get annoyed, and maybe even change his kind just to spite him. “Yes, Richie! Yes. Do whenever you want to me, it’s not like this is gunna work anyways.” He huffed, crossing his arms in an emotion getting close to annoyance. “Wow, whatever I’d like?? I don’t think Bill would appreciate you saying things like that Stanney....” Richie joked, making himself laugh more than it made the others laugh. But, Richie never once took a straight face as a sign his joke hadn’t landed, and continued to laugh as if he had said the funniest thing in the world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

Stan rolled his eyes, “Ugh, Richie.. ew. I didn’t mean it like that- what did the movie say was step one?” The rest of the group looked at Richie, interested in what he was going to say. Richie stood up, pacing as he spoke. He stroked his chin as he tried to recall what it was, eyes going wide in excitement when it came to him,“Uhhh, if I remember currently, you have to lie down. Spoiler, step two is that we have to tie you to something. So, accommodate that when you’re choosing where to lie.” Stan did what he really didn’t want to do, and got up. He was quite comfortable where he sat, the warm of the fire felt nice, but- he knew that this folly ritual wouldn’t take more than 15 minutes, and that he’d be back to his seat shortly. They walked a few feet over to the open space of Richie’s big backyard. “I’m just going to lay on the grass, if you think I’m gonna lay against a dirty, mossy tree with bugs and  crawly things, you’re dead wrong.” And Richie laughed, “Lazy ass, you just don’t want to stand,” and Stan nodded, “Possibly, now whats next,” he spoke as he got on the ground, watching as Richie stood above him, having to crane his neck down to look at him. “Well, I gotta tie your hands and legs together, so.. lemme go into my dad’s shed and see if I can find anything.” Richie spoke, walking away from Stan and over to his dad’s shed and fumbled with the lock for awhile, he was thankful he guessed the combination right on the first try- it was his moms birthday; thankful it wasn’t his fathers, because he sure as hell didn’t know that sober, let alone drunk. The shed was white, and a bit worse for the wear; and wasn’t too big- but he knew his dad stored a whole lot of stuff inside of it, so he knew he’d probably be looking for what he needed for a bit. He peered his head inside into the dark, musty shed, and coughed as he breathed in the dust from the shelves. He fumbled through the shelves, hoping not to cut his hand on any of the tools there- or worse; touch a cobweb. He finally found the closet thing he could find, some electrical cords. He looked around for the other things he’d need, a lighter, some candles, and a knife. All of which he found after quite a bit of searching, hopefully the shirt he was wearing didn’t get too dirty as he looked- he thought. As soon as found everything he needed, he rearranged everything he had misplaced while looking through the cluttered shed, so his parents would never be privy to the fact he had been there. Sacrificing your friend to satan as a joke would probably get him in a lot of trouble. He returned back to Stan, inturupting his stargazing to show him the bright green electrical cords he had found. “This was all I could find, sorry it’s not the rope youre used to being tied up with. Hey- does Bill ever tie you up-“ Stanley looked at him with anger and squinted eyes, which said all that it needed to, “Sorry- shouldn’t have asked. I don’t really know how to tie good knots and... you were in boy scouts so maybe you could....” He crouched down to speak to him, and Stan grumbled in annoyance, but took the cord reluctantly. “G-d, Richie. Do I have to do everything? Fine, I’m only tying my legs though.” He sat up and tied his ankles together in a figure eight kind of configuration, and Richie watched it a sort of awe at how quickly he could do it. Richie set his other items he had in his arms to the side to tie his wrists together, Stan tried to movie his head to look at what they were. “What do you have there,”Stan asked as he held his two arms up for Richie so he could tie his wrists together, “I’ll tell you when we need them,” he spoke flatly, concentrating on tying the knot, sticking his tongue out a bit as he always did when he concentrated on something difficult for him to do; concentrating on in itself was often times very difficult for Richie. Stan grew a bit more suspicious because of that answer, but just put the vagueness down to Richie’s mind being elsewhere. He could feel that the knot probably wasn’t as tight as it probably should have been. Stan giggled to himself, “I’m just now realizing, I never even asked you why we have to tie my arms and legs up.” and Richie chuckled, “Yah, I was waiting for you to ask. It’s so like, when you get possessed and shit, and the demons in you- you don’t flail your arms and stuff.” Richie explained, and Stan nodded in false agreement- as if that made any sense. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He could’ve posed the question, ‘If a demon really does possess me, wouldn’t it be strong enough to break the cords?’ but he disregarded that though, he didn’t want to get into it. “If I get possessed,” Stan corrected, and soon silence fell on the two of them because Richie didn’t know what to say to that. Stan broke the silence his remark caused, “What now?” Richie was quick to answer, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well usually, they kill the person. But, we can’t, kill you, obviously. But, I remember reading somewhere we can prick your fingers or something? Maybe cut your arms?” Richie spoke as a question when it was phrased as a statement. Stanley processed what he’d just said. He mulled it over in his thoughts, “Well. That’s fine I suppose. I’ll just have to wear long sleeve shirts for awhile so my parents don’t wonder why I have such long cuts on my arms,” He answered Richie, who awkwardly smiled a bit, “Yah, I don’t think your parents would have me over if they found out about this,” and Stan returned the smile, though his grin was a bit toothier. “Yah, you thought right. You can cut my arm, but, if you cut deep enough to cut my brachial artery, or axillary artery I’m going to seriously kill you,” He was only half kidding when he spoke, and Richie knew it. Richie laughed almost as awkwardly as he smile beforehand, “Stan, don’t be mad at me but- I have no idea what the fuck those are,” laughing a bit as he spoke even though Stan didn’t think that was at all funny. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
“G-d, Richie, youre dumb. Just... just don’t cut to deep, got it?” Richie smiled reassuringly, and didn’t dispute his claims, “That I can do, Stan... Hey everyone!!!! Come here I’m about to do it, I need you guys to help!!!” He yelled, and the rest of the gang left where they were sitting, noting that the fire was dying down a bit so it was safe to leave it unattended for the 5 minutes this stupid joke would probably take. They all walked over, and stood a foot behind Richie. Richie got up, and loomed over Stan. The cool grass felt nice against his warm skin, and the sky was pretty to look at. The stars twinkled, and all the constellations he couldn’t recall the names of looked so pretty. “Stand in a circle around Stan,” Richie spoke, remembering the movie a bit better now that they were about halfway done the summoning scene. Stan had a thought occur to him, “Hey, Richie- you always say that I killed christ, maybe I’m strong enough to kill satan too if I actually get possessed” he joked, and the gang laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Richie did. “YOWZA! Stanley Uris gets off with a good one!”. The joke didn’t sit right with Eddie, though. He grabbed Richie’s hand in his and squeezed tightly, and Richie looked down at him and gave him a look that warmed his heart, but did nothing to alleviate his worries. Richie wished he knew that this was all a joke, and that nothing would happen. “Hey Stan, what it you’re like, immune,” Ben asked, Stan arched his head in confusion, he wasn’t sure what he meant by that, “Come again, Ben?”, “Well, do they have Satan in Judaism, what if nothing happens. Is that offensive to ask? I’m really sorry if it is I didn’t mean t-“ And Stan cut him off with a reassuring smile, “It’s not offensive Ben, don’t worry. Yah, we have the devil. It’s a bit different, probably, I’m assuming, than how Christians view him or whatever. But like, same thing. Usually though, Satan just is an embodiment for all evil, and an adversary, rather than someone tangible,” He answered, and Ben nodded as he understood now. “Yah, he doesn’t have like ammunity or anything,” Richie spoke with grandiosity as if he knew everything, “Jewish Ammunity.... jewmunity,” and Stan laughed harder than he should have at that terrible pun. “Fuck, say a terrible pun like that again and I think I’m gonna want you to slit my throat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay so, everyone join hands.. and uhhh,  I’ll try my best to remember what they said...” Richie spoke, flicking his lighter on with shaky hands, making it take him a couple times to light each candle. The fearful part of his brain wondered if that was somehow a sign- a sign from the universe to not do it. But he dismissed that. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t going to work. Stan was right, he was always right. Why wouldn’t be be right. He lit 6, and surrounded Stan’s body with them. He hated to admit, it felt way too real now. Stan was really on the ground, tied, with candles surrounding him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
It was weird, and he felt unsettled about it for the first time that night, it somehow just hitting him now that this was a bit fucked up. He tried to suppress those feelings again, because fuck, if Stan wasn’t nervous, why should be nervous? Stan was the one on the ground for fucks sake. But it all felt heavy. He didn’t believe in this stuff but, if anything happened to Stan he’d never forgive himself- he was his best friend. He held the knife in his hand, looking at it over in his hand, looking at his reflection in the distorted reflection of the blade. He hated the fear he saw blooming in his eyes, he hated that Eddie’s belief was rubbing off on him a bit. He straddled Stan’s waist as he crouched down a bit, “You sure I can cut your arms, right?” Richie asked one last time, and Stanley nodded frantically before he had a chance to change his mind. Richie grabbed his right arm, and cutting a long line from the ditch of his elbow to just above his wrist, careful to not go too deep though. He watched tears well in his eyes, and his face contort a bit in pain, but other than that, he was fine. Richie watched the red gush from his wound, trickling down his arm and into the ground below him. And he grabbed the other arm, and did the same, and that arm seemed to hurt Stan more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>

He grabbed at the grass below him with his other hand until his knuckles turned white, pulling it out from the ground and biting his lip, waiting for the pain to subside. Richie wiped the excess blood on the grass. “Sorry, Stan,” Richie wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, especially since Stan said it was okay to do, but it would feel weird if he didn’t. Stan smiled as tears still poured down his face, “Don’t worry about it, Rich. It’s just a shame it’s all going to be for nothing,” But the rest of the losers no longer felt the same. They had to admit, things felt different now. The low glow of the fire illuminated them in all the wrong ways, it was a bit creepy. And the night air went from refreshingly cool to unsettlingly chilly. Richie mentally cringed as he did the next step, he dipped  his pointer finger in the blood pooling from Stan’s right arm, and drew an upside down cross on his forehead, “You better not be drawing a dick on my forehead, Tozier,” He whispered lightheartedly, and Richie smiled and shook his head no, Stan eased the tension and made things a bit easier, as he always did. Richie got up, and rejoined the circle. He took Eddie and Bev’s hands. Stan looked up at them all staring down at him, and was made a bit uncomfortable at the realization that there were six people there, and six was the devils number. But he tried not to think about that. This was stupid, this wasn’t going to work. Richie wasn’t even following it properly. “Okay so, I’m gonna say what they said, and then you guys all gotta repeat it after me.” And the rest of the losers nodded, not very enthusiastically, though. “We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of Stanley Donald Uris, from Derry, Maine.” Richie went on, and the rest of the group related him, “We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of Stanley Donald Uris, from Derry, Maine,” they chanted in reply. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan didn’t at all think that this was going to work, he did however hate how his full name sounded on their lips though. He’d only ever been called that when he was in trouble at home as a young boy, and to hear his full name in this context made him uncomfortable. But, he was no more, or less scared. “With the deepest malice, we deliver this virgin to thee,” Richie asserted, “With the deepest malice, we deliver this virgin to thee,” They repeated back in an eerie echo. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, terrified to see what had happened. Stan turned his head and noticed this, “Open your eyes, Eddie, nothing happened,” Stan informed, a gloating smirk on his face as his gaze shifted to Richie, and Eddie opened his eyes and took a deep breath of relief upon the revelation of nothing. The sight the same way he had left it. Stan was happy to have been proven right yet again. But Richie didn’t think he was finished yet, they repeated it again, over and over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Still nothin-“ He intended to interrupt upon the 5th repeating, but something stole his voice. He was unable to speak. His eyes widened in panic, he tried to scream but he couldn’t, he tried to say anything but he couldn’t. He felt as if his throat was closing but he could still breath. His whole body grew hot, and he felt as though he was burning up. It was a different kind of burning than the way he felt while being embarrassed- he literally felt as though he was being set on fire. Everything hurt, he wanted so badly to scream but no sound could leave his mouth. All he could do was writhe on the ground, and try to flail his arms and legs to try and illivate the burning feeling. He had never been in so much pain, and yet he had never felt such a disconnect from his body. Everything felt foreign, as if he was feeling everything for the first time. He breathed frantically, trying to calm himself down, to reassure him that what was happening to him wasn’t really happening to him. But he couldn’t. This was real, this was happening. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it was a wonder it didn’t break his ribs. He tried to wiggle his way out of his restraints, he felt so confined, he felt as though the world was crashing against him. He was sweating profusely now, working himself up even more. He was trying to dismiss everything he was feeling as just himself working himself up, but this was correlation, not causation. It was almost as though he was having an outer body experience. He could hear his friends asking him things, yelling at him, but he couldn’t make it what they were saying- it was all noise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
All he could focus on was the agonizing pain coursing through his veins, he tried to let out a scream but his voice was still gone. He rolled around in the grass, trying anything to not feel like he was burning up, hoping the dew of the grass would do something to put out the feeling of fire burning up his skin. He frantically tried to kick his restraints off, he was sure he probably looked insane to his friends, watching him with panic from a distance- a big distance, they were terrified. All of a sudden, he was consumed by a new feeling that hit him like a tone of bricks, he was filled with a white hot burst of energy in his very core. He had never felt like this, he felt so much energy that was killing him to be released. He had never felt so confined, he used a strength he had never had before and ripped the restraints tying his hands and feet together just by pulling on them. He clawed at the ground beneath him, needing to do something while he waited for this pain to subside. He could finally scream again, he screamed so loudly and so highly he wondered if humans could even hear it, it sounded more like a dog whistle than a sound that could possibly be made by a human. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan was so scared right now- he had no idea what was happening to him. In that moment, he swore he was levitating a few inches off the ground. Now he knew for sure he was having an out of body experience, he could see everything his body was doing. It felt strange to see himself as others could see him, it was like looking in a mirror. But that was the unsettling part, there was no mirror there. And suddenly, he crashed back to earth- literally and physically. He was back in his body. He wasn’t burning anymore, and he felt his back hit the ground with a loud thud. He still felt the pent energy coursing through him, he needed to do something. He didn’t know what, but his body was craving something. He felt powerful, but yet so weak- like he was missing something, it was a feeling he’d never felt before. His body craved something, and everything felt so strange. He panted frantically and wildly as he laid on the ground, his arms outstretched, he couldn’t help but cry- he had never been so scared, he had never been so confused. He watched as the losers ran up to him, one at a time, looking at him with a panic he’d never seen before. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of a look so fearful, but he honestly couldn’t blame them. Any amount of tipsiness he had once had, was gone. He had never felt more alert, never had be been so aware of his surroundings. It was as if all of his senses were heightened or something. Stanley didn’t know what had just happened. He sat himself up, leaning on his arms for support. As he looked up at them, the fear they were looking at him with was amplified tenfold on his expression, he had never been scared in his life. He was scared of himself, he didn’t know what he was going to do next, The unpredictability of the way he felt terrified him to no end. He looked at Eddie, who was so scared he was shaking. Bev was slowly walking closer to him. He scooted backwards, away from her- he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. He was still shaking pretty badly himself, everything still felt so strange, he couldn’t shake how foreign he felt in his own body. It was if it wasn’t his anymore, it was as if he was different now. He quickly crawled a safe distance away, and tried to get up, before falling to his knees, and throwing up. He threw up so quickly, it hurt. It burned his lungs, and it burned his throat as he coughed it up. He looked at what had made him feel so terrible, he didn’t want to, but he knew he had to. It didn’t feel natural as it left him. He opened his eyes, and looked down. Frantically trying to catch his breath, panting and shaking with his whole body. He looked, he had thrown up something that he didn’t even know what it was- he had never seen anything like it before. It was pitch black, for one thing. And Stan hadn’t eaten anything black that day; but he couldn’t think of anything dark enough to give vomit that sort of colour. As he looked at it closer, it wasn’t a shock to him anymore that it hurt so badly. It looked pointy, it had spikes coming out of it all over. It was liquidous and pointy, almost as if it was black slime with needles sticking out of it. He couldn’t place it- but it felt strangely evil. It felt wrong to look at, and it unsettled him that it was in the real world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
It was strange, it wasn’t supposed to be real. He got up, and walked over to them, shaking like a leaf. They all call out to him, “Stan??” but he wasn’t willing to meet their eyes, he didn’t want to see their look of fear mixed with disbelief. They would probably think he had made that whole outburst up, but he couldn’t possibly. He saw it for himself, his body was moving in ways that weren’t humanly possible. The way he crawled and flailed his arms weren’t movements of a human, they were movements of a weird creature, a creature hoped Stan would never know. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Richie broke the silence, “Did it work??!! Did you get possessed or was that an act?” Stan couldn’t answer, he didn’t want to answer. He thought he knew the answer, but he didn’t want to say it, he couldn’t say it. Bev smacked Richie on the arm for the insensitivity, and Richie couldn’t really blame her for that. Richie noticed something, and grabbed one of his arms, and then the other one to inspect, “Your arms... they’re healed.” He noted with terrified astonishment, “You okay Stanney?” Bev asked with genuine concern, a concern stained with fear. That nickname usually. brought him comfort, but it was doing nothing for him now. “.. Stanney?” She repeated, her voice quivering with fear in a way he had never heard before. He met her gaze for only a moment, and the look of horror she had on her face when their eyes met made him want to run and hide. His eyes were darker, and clouded with something she couldn’t place. Something came over him, he couldn’t place what he was feeling either. All he knew, was that he couldn’t be around his friends right now. He had to many emotions that he had never felt before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He felt so powerful, but in a way that was strangely weak- he couldn’t explain it. He felt stronger than he did before, but, still felt incomplete, like this wasn’t all he could feel. He felt like he could be stronger, but he was missing something. He felt hungry, too. But not like he needed to eat, he didn’t know how else to explain it, All he knew, was that he couldn’t be around his friends right now. He did all he could think to do, all that his terrified brain could tell him to do, he ran. He ran far away, and he didn’t stop running. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He heard his friends yell after him, some of them even chasing after him for awhile. But Stan was running really, really fast. He even outran Eddie, which he had never, ever done before. Eddie was on the track team, for crying out loud. He had never had so much strength before, and it was terrifying. He didn’t know where he was headed, he just needed to get away from his friends until he knew he could be around them again. He needed to sort this out, and then go back and pretend that everything was fine. He just wanted to run, and run, and run- he hoped that maybe if he ran fast enough he could escape himself in the process. His surroundings became a blur as he sprinted down the winding roads, eventually leaving the subdivision Richie’s house was in, down a more secluded, dirt road, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. 



God, did he feel absolutely awful. He felt like he had been through hell and back. He recognized where he was, though. He was halfway between Richie’s neighbourhood and Bill’s; in the deserted woodland area between them that hadn’t been turned into anything yet. He thought it was funny that without realizing, he’d made his way to Bill’s house, not his own. He didn’t know what time it was, but judging by how little cars there were on the road, and how dark it was outside; he figured it was way past midnight. He looked at his surroundings, nothing but a road that seemed to go on forever, some trees, some farmland, and some houses he could see in the distance. He couldn’t help but sit down, and cry. Actually, to say he cried would be an understatement. He bawled, and loudly sobbed- he wouldn’t have even cared if anyone saw it, not that anyone was around to. He was so defeated. He felt so strange, and it was a strangeness he had never experienced before, so he had no idea how to alleviate it. He felt so weak, so incomplete, combined so much strength in him that needed to be released, there was so much tension. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
And now, he could see that there was a car driving down the road, coming his direction. And the closer it got, the slower it drove. Great, this was just what he needed. He was going to have to talk to this stranger, or worse! His heart pounded. He sat, frozen in place, as the car pulled up, and stopped because there were no other cars on the road. The driver pulled over, and lowered his window. The driver was a man, who looked about 25, old enough to know better, old enough to not stop his car for a crying 17 year old. Stanley knew he must’ve been up to no good, no adult was up this late with good intentions, and he certainly eyed Stanley like he had a few bad ones. “Awww, hi honey, why are you crying?” The man spoke, with a casual flirt in his tone that made Stan feel sick. He didn’t say anything, and kept his head down. He muffled his sniffles and nonchalantly wiped his eyes, and tried his best to pretend he wasn’t crying. “You can’t fool me, what’s a pretty young thing like you doing crying out here so late?” He asked, snapping his fingers from inside the car to get his attention. It was unsuccessful, though. Stan hoped if he just ignored him, he’d leave, he’d be alone again and he could figure this out by himself. He heard the man sigh a sigh of impatience, the lack of response was wearing his patience thin. Stan hated every second of this, now he felt how Bev always described how awful she would feel when she would get catcalled, or followed home by a creepy guy. He genuinely hoped he’d never feel this way again, and hoped that every guy who did things like this dropped dead. “You better fucking look at me when I’m talking to you. I’m trying to be fucking nice to you. Don’t make me get out of this fucking car, kid.” The inpatient anger made Stan’s stomach churn. He felt uneasy all over, and was nervous. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And suddenly, something came over him. He walked up to him, and stuck his face through the open window. The driver, expected a kiss, but instead, got a kiss of sorts- a kiss of death. His fate was sealed  now. Stan felt like he was having an outer body experience again, his actions were so foreign to him he felt as though he had no control of him. He was doing things he’d never done before. He felt his jaw unhinge in a way he knew wasn’t humanly possible, but that strangely didn’t hurt him. He felt two extra rows of teeth suddenly appear in his mouth as he did that, and ran his tongue over them experimentally, and they were sharp as razors. He liked the way the man was looking at him, he looked even more terrified. He took a huge bite out of his face, he knew he should’ve been disgusted. But he wasn’t. He felt so removed from his humanity at that moment, it was if he was completely detached. He did so again, something came over him. He wasn’t sure why, or how it was doing this- he knew it was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was as if he was feeding off of his fear, that his fear made him more powerful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
The more terrified they felt, the more strength he got. He had never felt so strong. It was strange too, that he barely got any blood on him, it was if he knew what he was doing, it was as if he’d done this before. He was acting with a foreign expertise, as if someone else was controlling his actions. He was battling an entire different headspace, a conflicting moral code that wasn’t his; that was never his. The man was screaming, loudly, but he was complexly numb to it, in fact- it only provided him more fear to feast on. He hoped he would never shut up. The last bit of logic that was still left in his thought process told him to leave soon, that his screams had probably woken someone up, and that someone was probably going to call the police. But he didn’t let that distract him, he was full of the confidence that he would get away with this. He grabbed hold of the car door, and used strength that he knew wasn’t humanly possible, strength he had never possessed before, and ripped the car door right off of his hinges. He had better access now, and didn’t stop his attack until the man was halfway gone. His remains barely looked human as he pulled away from them, his large intestine was the only vaguely intact organ that he had left from his torso. He checked his appearance in the rear view mirror that was still attached to the door that was in his hand. Besides his slightly messed up hair, and lips covered in blood, he looked fine. It suddenly came to him that he had pulled that door off of a car with his bare hands, and he dropped it, and slowly backed away from the scene of the crime to process it all. He felt superhuman, but also subhuman. It was all so weird. But, the strange feeling was gone, or at least, different. It felt better. He was almost glad  that that guy had pulled over to talk to him, because now he knew one out of the two steps he needed to feel better. 



He felt, strangely full- he wasn’t as hungry as he had felt before. A strange sense of nourishment washed over him. He felt weird though, that he still had energy to release, a different kind of energy. He was standing there bewildered, so much had just happened, but he couldn’t even process it. He bit his lip, he felt weak, but a different kind of weak. He was so close to being complete, he felt just on the edge of bliss. He was being burned up inside, and the way his member was starting to become strained against his pants helped him come to the conclusion about what he needed. He supposed he was going into heat? It was odd, but that’s the best way he could describe it. He needed to see Bill, now more than ever. He needed to feel normal again, and Bill was the only thing that made sense right now. And he needed to see Bill to feel the bliss that was just out of reach. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He needed to see Bill. He ran to Bill’s house, eagerly speeding up as he was on his street. He finally came to Bill’s house, and there was not a single light on. He looked at Bill’s room, knowing which window was his, and he wasn’t awake either. He knew he had to play his cards right, and somehow get to his window without making any noise, so he wouldn’t wake anyone up that he didn’t want awake. He wanted to wake Bill up, obviously, but if he woke his parents up he’d be in so much trouble they both would. He didn’t know how he could possible get up there as he walked further up the drive way. He couldn’t climb up, he couldn’t jump that high, and he sure as hell wasnt going to get on top of one of the cars in the drive way and try to try 2 of those ideas at once. But, without realizing, he started to levitate. Something was definitely going on, now. The way that man was drawn to him out of nowhere, the way he ate his blood and flesh and fed on his fear, the way he could run that quickly out of nowhere, that could maybe, possibly be explained away- if he tried hard enough, if he talked circles around himself, he could try and explain that. But flying? That was in no way empirically possible, and yet it was happening anyways. He was shocked to his very core, but holy fuck- did he need Bill. He didn’t even really question anything at this point. Seduction wasn’t enough, eating flesh and fear wasn’t enough- it was 66.66% of the puzzle, but he needed that other 33.33% to get him all the way there. He flew up to the roof by Bill’s window, kicking a few shingles out of place as he landed on the mossy roof awkwardly. Shit, if he had known he could fly, he wouldn’t have ran so much- his feet were starting to really hurt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He knocked on the glass of the window lightly, careful to only be loud enough to wake Bill. And it seemed to be so quiet, it didn’t even do that. He watched Bill’s sleep stay unstired. He looked so peaceful, so cute; Stan almost didn’t want to wake him. He missed sleeping with Bill, he missed the way he was always so warm, and easy to cuddle. He missed being held in Bill’s arms as he fell asleep, feeling Bill’s chest rise and fall as he spooned him. Bill being grounded was already too much for him. Stan sat with his knees crossed as he waited, tapping a bit louder. The change in seating gave a slight second of friction that made Stan want Bill all the more, he tapped louder. That did it this time. Bill woke up, frantically springing up, he yawned, and rubbed his eyes. He cracked his back as he got up, he looked around the room, trying to see what had disturbed him, he saw Stan sitting on his roof, looking in his window, and ran over from his bed across the room. Stan tried not to laugh as he watched Bill tried to make his sleepy legs work, trying his best not to trip over himself and his pj pants that were somehow much too big for him. Bill opened the glass part of the window, still leaving the screen part up. Stan nearly whined, he needed that screen down, and fast. Bill rubbed his eyes again, Stan couldn’t help but blush at how cute he was when he was tired, and not to mention his bed head. His straight auburn locks were tousled and out of place, getting in his eyes in a way that was adorable without even trying. Stan was still so smitten for him, it took barely anything to make his heart melt. “Hey, baby, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Bill asked, and Stan smiled in a way that in any other context would’ve been calming- but that message was undercut by the blood that was still on the corners of Stan’s mouth, he had tried his best to lap it all up though. “No, nothing’s wrong, I just really needed to see you,” If only Bill knew how much he needed him right now. Bill laughed, and ran a hand through his hair to move his bangs out of his face so he could see him better, Stan met his eyes- sparkling a blue that was as clear as ever. The sky wished it could radiate a blue as pretty as the blue that was trapped in the globe of Bill’s eyes, and the crystal blue of the ocean couldn’t hold a candle to the reflexes of teal that coruscated in them. God, his laugh was enchanting, Stanley couldn’t help but think. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
It was comforting. It was a comfort he needed now more than anything. He needed the comfort of his presence now. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, cus believe me, I am,” He traced the outline of Stan’s face through the mesh of screen, in a way that captivated all his attention. “I’m just, a bit worried, did something happen?” His voice heavy and deep with concern, a worry that he was thankful for- but he didn’t need to worry now. He would soon feel better, the best feeling he’d ever felt was on the horizon. Stan laughed in a way that gave Bill chills, he spoke differently that night. He looked differently, too. In Bill’s mind; Stan was always the most beautiful boy in the world- and he told him that every chance he got, but he looked otherworldly tonight. He looked sinfully ethereal, that’s the only way he could describe it. His skin seemed to glow, his curls were bouncier, his cheeks had more colour to them, it all made Bill want him in a way he probably shouldn’t have at 2:27AM. “I just... found my way back to your house, and that’s all that matters,” He giggled, his voice oozed with flirtation. He was always attracted him, but he had a aurora of seduction to him that was subtle, but unmistakably powerful. Bill knew he shouldn’t, but he was called to open the screen, and so he did. His shaky hand undid the latch that kept it closed, and raised it. “What happened?” Bill asked again, though less inquiry behind his voice. His voice was smooth and seductive, matching Stan’s tone now. Stan pulled him by the collar of his sweater, and crashed their lips together hard to shut him up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan immediately melted into the kiss, he needed this too much. He felt electrified when he tasted Bill again, it had been too long. Bill sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, quickly wanting him as much as Stan wanted him, though his need was unmatched. Stan’s need for him was supernatural, not that Bill knew that though. Bill ran a hand through Stan’s soft curls, Stan couldn’t help but sigh into the touch. Bill took that opportunity, he ran his tongue along his lip to deepen the kiss, tracing the outline with the tip of his tongue, driving the other male crazy with want until he finally delved in. Stan sucked on his tongue feverishly, making his desperation as apparent as possible, clawing at Bill’s shirt with everything he had. Hoping that maybe, if they kissed hard enough, he could melt into him completely- he wanted him so much; he loved him so much. That want for him was quickly overtaking him. Bill was far less frantic, considering that this encounter was an unexpected surprise. Bill swirled his tongue around Stan’s- but tasted something very unfamiliar; blood. He pulled away, and Stan whined out of need for him. Bill stayed close though, his lips touching Stan’s as he spoke, close enough to still breath in Stan’s scent- that was always so intoxicating to him, but it was impossibly more so than usual. “Why’d you stop!!! I want you so badly, please, kiss me again,” Stanley whined, and Bill wanted more than anything to give him what he wanted, but this all felt so strange. Something didn’t sit right with Bill. The feeling of Bill’s hot breath against his skin drove him wild with anticipation. Breathing in each other’s air got Stan so dizzy, so high on want. Bill spoke slowly, not wanting to freak Stan out, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
“You’re bleeding, baby,” He was a bit worried maybe he had done something to hurt him, probably just unfounded paranoia- but Bill still worried, he didn’t want Stan to get upset and leave. The low tone of his voice made Stan’s heart beat speed up, he felt like he was floating- so much so he had to check he wasn’t. Little did Bill know, that wasn’t his blood. “Oh, um, I bit my tongue on the way here,” He spoke quickly, reconnecting their kiss and picking up just where they left off. Normally, it wouldn’t have been, but that explanation was good enough for him in that moment, and he kissed back almost as eagerly. His touch felt so foreign, his eyes were vacant. And as their lips parted, his kiss was cold, yet his body was so hot. His face was so hot to the touch as Bill possessively cupped his face as they kissed; rolling their tongues over each other’s. It didn’t feel bad, it just felt different. The way Stan kissed back, he could tell that he wanted more. They both loved the obscene sounds their mouths made together. The kiss grew sloppier, and he could feel Stan’s hands snake into his hair, and tighten his grip; not wanting Bill to go anywhere, holding him there like he needed him there. Bill could get intoxicated off of just that alone, nothing felt better than to be needed. He pulled apart, wanting to tease him, wanting to leave him weak and wanting more. “You can come in... but, you REALLY have to be quiet” He whispered huskily, Stan couldn’t help but let out a desperate whine, “Yah of course, I’ll do anything you want as long as you fuck me... please.” He mewled, and how could Bill ever say no to that. He was usually so timid, and so shy, it wasn’t often he was so forward. This was the kind of risk and recklessness he lived for; god if his parents were to hear him, he would not only be outed; but he would probably he grounded for eternity. But he couldn’t help but dare to walk the line between caught, and not caught- fuck, he wanted to jump rope with that line. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan couldn’t help but feel a bad, as Bill opened the screen open. And held his hand and helped him climb in from the window, and over the desk that was directly under it. He knew Bill was reckless and would do self destructive and reckless behaviour; and had no impulse control. Hell, Stan was his impulse control- and here he was, inticing him to do something reckless. He liked that feeling of guilt a bit, it kept him in touch with his humanity. He didn’t know what exactly happened but, this reminded him he wasn’t too far gone. Those feelings of guilt, though, nearly evaporated when Bill held his waist tightly, pulling his slender frame into his much larger one. Kissing his neck softly, licking stripes into the soft skin, sucking softly- never hard enough to leave marks on any skin visible while wearing clothes. Stanley couldn’t help but throw his head back against his shoulders, giving Bill more access to his skin that begged to be kissed, begging to be marked up. He let out a soft groan as Bill’s hands trailed lower than his waist, resting possessively on his clothed ass, just his touch alone sending chills down his spine. “Shhh, baby, you’re really gonna have to keep it down. If my parents hear me, I’m pretty much grounded until the end of time. Think you could please keep quiet?” He asked, cupping his jaw with his free hand, making him look up at him. Stan nodded, and faintly spoke out a yes. “Thank you, beautiful. Any other time though, please, be loud, you know what that beautiful voice of yours does to me...” And Stan nearly melted at the praises, growing impossibly hard in his shorts, he could barely stand this. He could barely stand at all. Luckily though, Bill could sense that, and led him to his bed. He pushed him onto it, and boy, did Stan miss it here. This was where they’d first had sex, and hadn’t done it there since then- all the other times had been at his house. Yes, he and Bill had been intimate plenty of times- he sure as hell wasn’t going to let his friends know that, though. He liked Bill’s bed a lot more than he liked his own. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Mainly because, Bill’s bed was always sure to have Bill in it, his did not always have that guarantee. Not to mention, his pillows felt softer, and the sheets smelled like him. His bed was messy from where Bill had been sleeping moments before this. Stan wished more than anything he could join him, and sleep here after they were done. But he couldn’t. He wanted more than anything to have Bill play with his hair as he was lulled to sleep by his heavy breath and soft kisses on his neck, but that was unfortunately not the night for that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill straddled Stan, admiring how pretty he looked, his curls sprawled around his face, his cheeks flushed and beautiful mouth open, lips swollen and panting. His eyes wild with lust and need. He’d never seen Stan want it so badly before. He placed his knee between his spread thighs, rubbing him. His lips making their way to Stan’s neck again. Ghosting soft kisses on the side of it, his soft breath giving him goosebumps. He took his earlobe in between his teeth, biting it slightly as he whispered sweet praises in his ear, his voice groggy from tiredness and lust. Bill pulled Stan’s sweater off of his skinny frame, revealing skin Bill had been dying to see. He nuzzled the skin below him, biting his collarbone, dipping his tongue in its groove, tracing it over with his tongue. Absolutely delighted to have access to skin that was okay to bite, sucking a few hickies that quickly bruised to a beautiful shade of purple. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep quiet, but he was going to try his absolute best. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He bit his lip harshly, surprised blood wasn’t drawn in the process. He couldn’t get over how good Bill was for him. He made him feel so amazing and he hadn’t even done anything, not really anyways. Bill ran teasing hands down his body, he came alive under his touch. He shoved their hips together, working his mouth down Stan’s chest, pressing soft wet kisses to the skin there as well. He ran his tongue teasingly over Stan’s nipples, enjoying his hard this was for him, watching Stan unravel was the most beautiful sight to see- but it was even more enjoyable to watch him struggle to not make a sound. He was so touched that he was trying, though. He was the luckiest guy alive to have someone like Stan. “Holy fuck, you’re already so hard....” He whispered, barely audible but Stan heard it perfectly. “Bill....” He purred, thrusting his hips to meet Bill’s motions, desperate for anything. He wanted so much more and this wasn’t cutting it. Bill pressed soft open mouthed kisses on the soft skin of his stomach, his hot breath softly trailing down his skin made him go dizzy. Stan’s needy hands found their way to Bill’s hair, pulling just the way Bill liked- the sting of his nails against his scalp stung beautifully, the pain exciting him. His kisses were trailing dangerously low to the waistband of his pants. Stan but his lip harshly as he waited for Bill to stop teasing him. He dipped his tongue into his belly button as he pulled his shorts down, taking his boxers down with them. He was staring at him hungrily, and Stan loved his vulnerable he felt in that moment. He was completely bare, and Bill was still fully dressed. Bill lowered his bed between his parted thighs, shivering in pleasure at the feeling of Bill’s gaze eyeing him there. He softly kissed his inner thighs, teasing him agonizingly. He ran his thumb over his tip, taking some of his precum and took it into his mouth, savouring the taste and causing Stan to blush madly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
“So wet already too....” He commented obscenely. He trailed his kisses down his thigh, and then to his member, kissing from base to tip. All of Stan’s remaining sense of composer was withering away, one hand in his hair, pulling it taunt, the other grabbing at the pillows and the sheets, desperately trying to hold onto composer. Bill gripped his hips to keep them from moving, taking him into his mouth. Stan felt like he was in heaven, he bit back a moan, at this point he felt like he was going to explode if he held back one more. The combination of Bill’s tongue (that seemed to feel too good everywhere) and the feeling of his hips domineeringly on his hips was nearly too much. He could combust at any moment and not be surprised. He dipped his tongue in his slit, swallowing around him as he took him in, slowly. A painfully torturous pace. He wanted to tease him, but also keep him there as long as possible. Hollowing his cheeks as he swirled his tongue around him, Stan felt unbelievably good. Feeling complete was so close he could nearly taste it. Bill very gently scrapped his teeth along his shaft, knowing Stan liked a bit of pain just as much as he did, and right he was- Stan couldn’t contain himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan quickly knew that this was way too risky. He grabbed one of the pillows he was grasping at for support, and held it over his mouth. While Bill was a bit mad because that would mean he wouldn’t get to watch Stan watch him suck him off, and wouldn’t get to see the deliciously cute expressions he made as he was about to cum- he knew that that was a good call. And he knew that there would be many, many more times to come, when he could see Stan about to cum, now was just not one of those nights. He took Stan deeper in his mouth, hearing a strained groan muffled by the pillow, giving him the confidence to take more in. As Stan felt the muscles in the back of Bill’s throat contract around his member, it grew increasingly difficult to keep quiet. He just knew all the right things to do. He deep throated him, taking him nearly entirely- using his hand to stroke what he couldn’t get. He bobbed his head up and down perfectly in time with everything, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Stan completely came undone. He got more handsy as he felt Stan’s slow, slight thrusts into his mouth get more and more sloppy. He wet 2 fingers and grimaced, it felt much better when Stan did that for him but, given their current situation he really couldn’t do that. He worked his two digits over with spit until he decided that they were ready, and slid his pointer finger into Stan’s tight opening. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan whimpered at the feeling of his finger inside of him, and his mouth on him, it was all so much, he grew so dizzy. He wanted this so badly. He slid that finger in and out at a pace that was easy to get used to so Stan could get acquainted to it, smirking to himself as Stan desperately fucked into it, desperately craving more than what Bill was giving him. Slipping another finger, teasing against his prostate, rubbing small circles into his perineum with his thumb. “Oh Bill... , I think I’m gonna cum soon,” he spoke, feeling so overwhelmingly good that he was sure he was going to pass out- so overwhelmingly happy that his horrible feelings through out the night were almost gone now. Bill was so good for him. Bill ate up his deliciously desperate tone, he sounded so needy, so needy for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill wasn’t the biggest fan of Stan cumming in his mouth, and he was too tired to pretend that he was so, he released him from his mouth with an obscene pop that made Stan’s blush deepen, and he flipped him over. Bill pulled his pyjama pants down, his own erection no longest strained painfully against the fabric. Stan laid there, face down into the pillows, ass up, and thighs trembling with anticipation- Bill couldn’t picture anything better. He kissed his skin softly, rubbing soothing patterns in his skin was the impatience he held burned him up. In any other scenario, Bill would have taken his sweet time with Stan, teasing him to no end, working him until he was begging for it. But, they didn’t have that kind of time, he gripped his hips harshly, digging his nails into the skin there the way he knew he liked. Stan liked looking at the indents they left there for the few days they lasted. He lined himself with his enterance, gently sliding in so he didn’t hurt him. He wished he could’ve seen Stan’s face as he entered him. The look of pleasure mixed with a good sort of pain on his face, his mouth falling open, breathing and panting heavily, moans and whispers slipping through his lips- he looked so pretty like that. Stan’s breath hitched at the unexpected intrusion, he arched his back into it as he moaned into the pillow. He heard Bill try to suppress a groan. He sighed harshly as he held Stan’s hips tighter, trying to maintain a bit of composure as he stretched him further, sliding in deeper. “You feel so good,” He whispered breathlessly, he couldn’t help himself. Watching his member slowly disappear into Stan’s body was nearly too much for him. Stan shuddered at the compliment, and Bill buried himself further in him, wanting to engulf himself in his essence, until they were more one person than two. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
“Tu es la perfection, ma chère,” Bill broke his own rule to shameless praise his boyfriend. Stan let moans slip absentmindedly from his parted lips at the feeling of taking his boyfriend completely as he bottomed out. He wanted more than anything to yell for him to start moving, that this felt so good it was nearing to be too much- but, it wasn’t enough. Finally, he felt him start to move, setting a slow rhythm that made Stan squirm underneath him, letting out muffled groans each time Bill slammed back into him. The quickly picked up his speed, the sound of skin hitting skin grew louder and faster, the two of them could barely be quiet. Stan panted into the soft pillow he buried his face in, grabbing onto the sheets below him, he felt incredible right now. Relief from the way he had been feeling was so close to him, it was almost there. He had never felt so good in his entire life, he was so dizzy as he felt relief wash over him. His knees started to buckle, and his hips started to buck, they both knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Bill took his member in his hand, stroking in time with his thrusts; Stan wanted to scream, and tried his best not to- he felt so good. One hand on member, the other holding his hip in place as he relentlessly pounded into the boy silently begging for it underneath him, using all his last bits of strength he could summon to do so, he was nearing his end too. His thrusts were more sporadic, and he was losing the rhythmic pace he had set for them as their climaxes quickly approached. Before there was intention behind the thrust of his hips, teasing his prostate once or twice before hitting it harshly, teasing him until he trembled. But, now there was no such planning. One more strong thrust was all it took, it sent him over the edge, trying not to be too loud as he came, spilling all over Bill’s hand. His muffled groans as he reached his peak sounded so good to Bill, he only wished he could’ve seen the look on his face as he released. The looks of euphoria on his face always took his breath away. He heard Stan moan a mix of his name, and curse words into the mattress, his knees almost completely gave out. He clenched around Bill as he came complete undone. He only saw white as he rode the waves of his orgasm. He felt complete, finally. He had never felt so strong, so powerful, no longer hungry for flesh and fear, and no longer hungry for lust either. He felt complete as his whole body went limp. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill wasn’t much farther behind him. A few more hazy thrusts led to his undoing, bitting his lip to suppress all sounds as he came, fucking Stan through his orgasm. “Mon joli petit canari...” Bill breathes into the back of Stan’s neck, preoccupying his mouth with Stan’s skin to keep from making noise. Stan wined at both the feeling of Bill pulling onto his hair for support as he came, but also at Bill unintentionally slipping into his second language. He thought it was so hot when he praised him- or degraded him even, in french during sex. He had been taught to slip into french when it got difficult to speak, sometimes he slipped into it during sex as well. Breathing in deeply, he spilled inside of Stan, who groaned when he felt him twitch inside of him. That was his favourite part, being filled with his cum, feeling it spill out and leak down his trembling thigh. He pulled out of Stan after awhile, who moaned in protest. He missed the feeling of him inside of him. His favourite part of sex was always followed so closely by his least favourite part, when it was over. Bill kissed his lips briefly, nothing more than a tender sign of affection. “You did so good, honey. You always feel so good,” Bill praised, Stan blushed and tremored a thank you. Bill smiled at how cute he was in that moment, his blushed cheeks, his lips that were slightly bloody from how hard he had bitten at them, and a bit swollen from that too. He was proud that his actions caused that kind of reaction. He pulled Stan into his lap, helping him get dressed again, and Stan felt warm and taken care of. Bill clumsily pulled his pyjama pants back up, collecting them from around his ankles. He brought his hand to Stan’s lips, wanting him to clean his fingers off. It was always so arousing that Stan liked the taste of himself so much. He fixated on his plump lips as he worked his fingers between them, his pink tongue darting out between them every once and awhile to lap up what was there. His lips slick with spit and Bill watched in awe. He cupped his face in his hand, brushing his thumb soothingly over his cheek, he was so hot to the touch. “So, so good for me, you kept so quiet and everything, you’re such a good boy, Stanley,” He cooed, Stan grew embarrassed by the praises but by no means wanted them to end, he buried his face into the crook of his neck to hide his face. He inhaled his sent one last time before getting up to leave, Bill followed him, and helped him out of the room and through the window. He sat, and knelt down on the other side of the window sill to say his good bye. “I love you dearly, Bill,” He spoke softly, not letting go of his hand yet. “I love you more,” Bill smiled sweetly, and they continued like that, back and forth for awhile. The stupid “i love, YOU, more”, “No, I love YOU, more” was stupid and cheesy on anyone else, but it fit them perfectly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan knew it was cliche and childish, but he had waited for far too long to be cliche with Bill. Stan closed the screen, and Bill closed the glass, waving good bye as he watched Stan leave with caution. He wanted to see how Stan got up there, because he wracked his brain thinking of how he did it but, he couldn’t think of a way. He watched intently, and to his surprise, he just jumped off. He frantically opened his window up to make sure Stan was okay, but to his even greater surprise, he didn’t see him. He didn’t see him on his lawn, on his roof, on his driveway- he even strained his neck trying to see if he had made it down his street by then, but he wasn’t there either. It was so strange. It was as if he had just vanished. Bill felt a rush of cold come over him. He felt unsettled, eerie even. Something wasn’t right, he couldn’t place it, but it was a feeling that felt growing yet vaguely familiar. It was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, if he had even felt it at all. It all felt so strange, he wasn’t even sure if that had just happened at all. He guessed he would have to call Stan tomorrow to ask if that was a delusion or not, the feeling of strangeness was similar to what he felt after he had gotten out of a delusion or dissociation. He felt shaken in the same way, but this felt, almost evil. He had never been a religious person, but it had almost felt like he had just danced with the devil. He really needed to get to sleep before he got into his own head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan calmly walked back into Richie’s backyard as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t frantically ran off, and as if 3 hours hadn’t passed since then. His friends had grim fear etched on their faces, unchanging since he had left. They ran up to him, but wanted to give him a bit of space, not hugging him just yet. They eyed Stan suspiciously. He seemed to almost glow? He looked mentally and physically healthier. He seemed to look better than before, though they expected him to look much worse. They expected him to be panicked, look worse for the wear- to have the appearance of someone who had been running for hours on end. He wasn’t sweaty, he wasn’t even dirty. His mannerisms were calm too, he was no longer was shaken. He was relaxed, making the worry they felt seem like an overreaction- even though they knew that that shouldn’t be the case. They eyed him suspiciously as he looked at them as if they were the strange ones, as if their actions weren’t fitting the situation. “Everything okay, guys?” He hesitated, looking a bit puzzled. He hoped that if he played this off cool, everything could just go back to normal. Before he knew it, before he could put his hands up in protest, he was engulfed in a huge hug from all his friends. Stan laughed, though he struggled to make air leave his lungs because of how tightly his friends were holding him. “Guys, relax, I’m fine. Everything’s okay-“ He tried to reason. “W-where did you go?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking nearly as bad as he did. Eddie needed that hug much more than Stan did. “Oh, just a quick walk to clear my head, everything’s okay now.” He explained, smiling- trying his best to say or do whatever it took to reassure them that everything was fine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Everything was not at all fine, in fact it was the furthest thing from it- but he just wanted this whole night to be over. Getting to the bottom of this was future Stan’s problem. Now, more so than he could ever recall, he just wanted to go to bed. “But... it wasn’t just a quick walk... you’ve been gone nearly 3 hours, Stan,” Mike whispered gravely. “And it wasn’t a walk either... you ran out of here- faster than I’ve ever seen you run...” Ben continued, debunking the ladder of Stan’s explination. Stan broke free of their hug in protest. “Guys. I’m fine, okay? Can we all just drop it for g-d’s sake?” and he saw all his friends twitch at the use of the word god, he wondered why all of a sudden it was so strange to hear him say that. They all nodded slightly, silently agreeing to drop it. An awkward silence filled their group now, none of them knew what to say. They wanted the previous atmosphere back, but it all felt so different. It wasn’t an irreversible difference, or at least, didn’t feel to be one yet. Richie looked at his shoes, then back at Stanley, trying to think of something goofy to say to lighten the tone that had gotten so heavy all of a sudden- soul crushingly heavy. “Jesus fuckin’ christ, Staniel, what did you eat to make you hurl like that.” Richie joked, some of the losers laughed, the others who were more consumed in thought just exhaled a bit louder than the usual breath, nothing more though. Stan looked at him with a bit of confusion, “Before, when you threw up back there. You don’t remember?” He reminded him, and Stan smiled faintly, “Oh, yah, uh, I had some black liquorice before I came here. Maybe that was it?” Which was a complete lie, he just wanted Richie to drop it. “Did your liquorice happen to have spikes in it? God, that must’ve hurt.” Eddie asked with a laugh, but Stan knew there was real wonder there. Stan looked at the others, judging their reactions. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He noticed that none of them even thought twice of him speaking ‘God’ aloud. He hoped they didn’t suspect anything, he hoped that they weren’t somehow privy to something he wasn’t. He was trying to work out the strange events that had taken place that night too, he didn’t want them to be a few steps ahead of him. Stan could think of nothing else to say, so he just shrugged, faking a smile that he hoped didn’t look to forced. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nothing felt right. The aurora didn’t feel right, Stan didn’t seem right, everything was suspicious. Everything felt wrong, and had an element of evil that was unexplainable, but couldn’t be ignored. But, they decided to leave it alone, and they all decided to go to sleep even though they were sure none of them would be able to. They were all sure that their pounding hearts and racing minds would keep them up until dawn. But they knew that they had to go asleep, and accept that it didn’t feel right. And they thought things probably wouldn’t feel right for awhile. They tried to let the logical thought patterns of Stanley’s reassurances from earlier that night comfort them, but they couldn’t help but be swept away by Eddie’s fears. Someone suggested they go inside, they weren’t sure who, but they were thankful for that suggestion. They wanted to get out of there, and Richie didn’t know wether he’d be able to look at his backyard the same way ever again. As they went through the back door to get into the basement as quietly as possible, everyone had a feeling of unsettled that they tried to keep to themselves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Richie felt a certain energy in the air, like a looming dark cloud hanging over all of them all together. There was a discernible tension that was as potent as poison, though everyone was trying to act as if it wasn’t there. So, he did what he did best, try to ease it with as many bad jokes as it took. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Stan!” He called to him, trying to hide the quivers his still afraid voice made. Stan turned to look at him, but made no noise, Richie could tell his attention was on him though. Stanley sort of knew what was coming, probably a bad joke or something. All of a sudden, Richie’s mind went blank- he couldn’t think of anything. So, he went for the first classic that came to his head. It would either make Stan laugh, or make Stan get annoyed with him which was always pretty funny- so Richie tried it. “How many Jews does it take to change a lightbulb? None ‘cause-“ Stanley intrupted him with a look devoid of emotion, he was tired. Tired because of what had just happened to him, and tired of that joke. “Nope. Nope. Shutting that down. Shut.” He replied, speaking in a somewhat joking, somewhat serious tone. Stanley had heard that one before, more times than he could count on one hand. He had none of his usual patience, albeit, thin patience, but still patience nonetheless, for those sort of jokes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
The group laughed at how Stanley shrugged him off, and quickly moved on to making short, easy conversation. Debates over what movie to watch, debates over who got to sleep on the good air mattress, usual sleepover banter. Richie was thankful for that, and the tension seemed to vanish in a puff of metaphorical smoke- it’s ashes still lingered though. Richie tried to not think about the weird events that took place that night. He was just thankful Stan was seemingly, safe and unharmed. He was so happy he didn’t get hurt. Maybe this was just a stupid prank after all. Unbeknownst to Richie, he’d accidentally turned his best friend into a succubus that night.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ch. 2 𖤐 new perspective</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bill goes to watch one of Stan’s baseball games, hell ensues (literally). But Bill makes it feel heavenly.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>baseball idea (bill and richie’s favourite teams) were based on a bit of canon! as you know from my writings: i hate canon but, some little facts i wholeheartedly love so i include them! richie’s red sox hate is based on the convo on png 371 in the book- which is one of my favourite bichie dialogues from the book! friendly reminder trashmouth and mushmouth are best friends :)</p>
<p>also, fun lil side note, the grateful dead is bill’s canon favourite band!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞,<br/>
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞. ❞</p>
<p>𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟑𝟎</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been a delightfully sunny day, that was starting to turn to dusk now. Colours of deep pink and purple decorated the sky like a watercolour painting. The cool autumn breeze cooling it down, filling the air with a juniper sent indicative of fall. It was a beautiful day, and Bill could think of no better way to spend it than how he was spending it now. He was sitting on the uncomfortable bleachers that belonged to Derry High School, watching his boyfriend Stan play baseball, there was no where else he’d rather be. It had been roughly a month since his odd late night encounter with Stan, not that it was as landmark as what the rest of the losers knew it to be, nevertheless, it had been one month since that night. His parents had quickly forgotten that he was even grounded, and let him go see one of Stan’s baseball games. He had a feeling they wouldn’t have really cared if he had gone even if they didn’t let him, but that wasn’t the point. He loved to watch him play more than anything else. Stan was an amazing player, and Bill wasn’t even biased and watching him play with rose coloured glasses. He really was good; his coach put him in games more than any other player, which Bill was very happy about. Because he didn’t come to his high school’s baseball games for any other reason other than to see Stan; so the more he saw of him the better. Bill really liked baseball, and his boyfriend made him like it even more. He didn’t play it though. It was a lot more fun to watch Stan play it. For two reasons, one; he was good at it, and two; he sure did look good doing it. He was the designated hitter for their high school’s team, The Derry Tigers, and mostly played left field. Which was a position that fit him, Bill thought. To be a good left fielder, you need to have good instincts and quickness, and Stan had both on and off the field. That was one of the things that made him so good at baseball. And he sure was good, he’d been named All State player twice in the two years he’d been on the team. Bill always bragged about Stan to anyone who would listen, and Stan would always be so humble, he’d giggle and say, “Not many good baseball players come from Maine, anyways,” and Bill would always kiss his reddened cheeks, and correct him, “No. Not many good baseball players come from Maine, because they all suck compared to you,” and he’d kiss his lips soon after so he couldn’t retort back. Stan was good, and he wanted everyone to know it. Stan knew he was good, but he hated to brag. He would never bring anything regarding baseball up to anyone unless they specifically asked, which was usually a result of Bill bringing it up. As long as Bill was proud of him, that’s all he would ever care about. And he knew Bill was proud of him, so that was the end of that. He did joke, though, that he was glad he was so good at baseball because a scholarship was his only way into a good university. Not that his grades couldn’t get him into a good school, he just knew his parents couldn’t afford to send him out of state for university. None of his friends could afford that, either. Which was a good thing, in a way. He supposed that would mean their little friend group wouldn’t separate and lose touch after high school, considering none of them could afford to move out of New England. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley batted right, threw right, and, according to Bill, his uniform fit him just right too. Well, better than right, it framed him perfectly. Bill couldn’t help but notice how cute he always looked in their schools colours. He made the ugly grey and orange colours work better than he ever could’ve believed. The jersey clung to him in all the best ways, and the pants hung on his hips beautifully. Bill almost looked forward to the game ending, just so he could kiss Stanley silly and tell him how great he looked out there. He’d remember hearing Richie telling him a few times, “Bill, start watching the game and not Staniel’s ass,” during some of the many games he’d attended with him. And even though they were dating now, and could stare if he wanted to, he’d always covered his face in embarrassment, and pretend he wasn’t looking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan wore a number 11, that was his favourite number, and Bill knew that well. Stan relied on numbers to give him comfort, and no number better gave him comfort than 11. He did many things in 11s, he washed his hands in 11s, he counted back from 11, he checked the locks on his doors and windows 11 times each, and he wore number 11 on his jersey. He liked it because it was perfectly symmetrical, folded, reversed, you name it- it would be the same on the back of his jersey. Two straight, unchanging lines. That brought him comfort. He saw his number 11 get up from the bench, taking his bat in hand. Bill watched as Stan was called to bat. He watched as he steadied himself, and got into position, ready and holding his bat to indicate so. Bill loved that look that was in his eyes most. He was so happy, and it made Bill happy to see him that way, to see him have so much joy while doing something he loved. He exuded confidence, too. He knew he was good, even if he never said it, and hated when Bill said it to others, he knew it, and he played like it. He smiled widely, and waved up to Bill in the stands. Bill smiled back, his heart melting a bit. He was sure that if he was attached to an electrocardiogram, it would’ve shown his heart skip a beat. He waved back eagerly, silently wishing him luck even though he knew he didn’t need it. “I think he was waving to us, actually,” Richie said sarcastically, and Bill rolled his eyes. Richie and Eddie waved to him too, clapping loudly, in a way that was so out of Eddie’s character. Usually Eddie hated causing a scene, and Stan hated being the cause of a scene- but they shed that mindset at things like these, it was a sight to behold for Bill and Richie. Bill and Richie liked sports a lot, so that was nothing new for them. As far as Bill and Richie were concerned, you couldn’t grow up in New England and not be a sports fan, though Richie said that while liking many out of state teams. Bill watched hockey and baseball almost religiously; obviously rooting for Hartford Whalers and the Boston Red Sox- he couldn’t cheer for any other teams in good conscience. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill loved to watch hockey with Stan, he loved to cuddle up with him, explain everything to him, gush about the teams history, who was top scorer, and all about the sport, Bill played a lot of hockey, he played for his school’s team, and played some travel outside of school. He wasn’t the best by any means, but he was pretty good. And Stan would go to all of his games, even though the arena was cold and he didn’t really understand the sport- though Bill was always ready to explain it to him. Richie and Bill always felt so smart when they watched sports with their significant others, as it was the only subject matter on earth that they were more knowledgeable about. Dating someone smarter than you definitely had its pros and cons; and nobody knew that better than Bill and Richie. It was ironic, though, Bill and Richie knew more about sports than Stan and Eddie- yet they were better at them. Go figure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill watched emphatically as his boyfriend hit the ball, even impressing himself by how far he hit it. He quickly dropped his bat, and ran past all 3 bases, getting a homerun. He slid into home base, high fiving his teammates as he got up, he was so proud of himself. He checked his clean pants to make sure he didn’t get any dirt on them. That was another thing that always amazed him about the way Stan played, he never got his pants dirty. He was always so concerned with keeping everything clean, and that concern didn’t stop when he got on the field. “That’s my boyfriend! My boyfriend just hit a homerun!” He beamed with pride, tapping Eddie’s shoulders ecstatically, and he quickly regretted sitting next to him. Eddie looked at him with a confused expression, “Bill, I’m gay. I don’t get sports. That’s a good thing though, right?” Eddie asked, and Richie interrupted him from the left side of him, peering his head to look at Bill. “Don’t take sports lessons from A Red Sox fan, sweets. But yah, it’s a good thing!” Richie explained, smiling and clapping for Stan, and knowing that now, Eddie smiled too, “Yah!!! Stan!!!” he cheered as well. Stan and Bill met eyes as Stan walked to sit back down, looking at him with eyes wide with happiness, and looking for approval- he wanted to make sure Bill saw what he did, and that he was proud of him. And indeed he was, he gave him a heart warming smile of deep sincerity, he was glowing with pride and anyone who saw him could see that. Stan sat back down, and blew Bill kiss before getting distracted by a teammate, and breaking their eye contact. Bill felt a bit goofy but, he didn’t care, he reached out to grab it was if it was tangible- that was one of their corny little rituals they had, they always did that when the other blew them a kiss. He smiled to himself, blushing and consumed with love. He was smitten for that boy. “Get a room, faggot,” Richie joked, pulling Eddie into his lap and taking some of the popcorn he’d boughten from the concession stand before the game had started. “Yah yah. Says you, queer,” Bill laughed, taking a handful of Eddie’s popcorn too. Richie gasped with mock offence, “Thats homophobia, Billiam”, and the three laughed harder together than they probably should have. “You shouldn’t take baseball advice from a Yankees fan, Eddie. I don’t even understand how you can be a New Englander and be a Yankees fan. You know you’re fucked up right? Like there’s something seriously wrong with you, right?” Bill joked, and Eddie laughed. “Yah, I got something very wrong with me- it’s called having good taste in teams, fucker,” Richie taunted back. They’d had this stupid, long running debate on this issue since they were in elementary school. “If you have an argument about dumb stuff I don’t understand, I’ll go...” Eddie said, but they both knew he was bluffing. Richie held him tighter in his arms, and Eddie melted into his touch, blushing as he felt Richie’s hot breath ghost against the back of his neck as he nuzzled into it. Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill was happy Eddie and Richie always came to these with him, because of Eddie’s always good company, and despite his and Richie’s banter. But, that was what they always did. They went to Stan’s baseball games to cheer him on, Bill’s hockey games to cheer him on, and they went to Eddie’s track meets to cheer him on. They always laughed at the subtle irony there. There was a stereotype that gay people weren’t good at sports but, the best athletes on both of those teams were gay... so what now? Bev, Mike, and Ben usually came but, sometimes they didn’t. The 4 original losers though, didn’t miss those events for anything. They all had a very strong affinity for each other, they’d been friends since they were younger. For many years, it had been them versus the world; and they supposed it would always sort of be that way. And as well, they were coincidentally the only two couples in the friend group, so it was only natural they did things apart from the others. They planned a double date after tonight’s game, in fact. It wasn’t anything too special, they were just going to get something to eat and then go to Eddie’s house for awhile, but they were all still looking forward to it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie and Eddie were happy to be going to this game, it was normal. They liked normal things. They liked Stanley, and they liked to see him doing normal things. This whole past month had been so normal it was beautiful. Stanley had been his same, old, Stanley self. He read his books, he buttoned his shirts, he pressed his socks, he kept the laces on his converse tied tight and with the same sized bows on each shoe, he was sarcastic, he was kind, he smiled as brightly as the sun, and he was good at baseball. He wasn’t terrified, he wasn’t scared, he wasn’t writhing in agony on Richie’s lawn, he wasn’t miraculously healing his own cuts, and he didn’t throw up weird substances onto Richie’s lawn either. This was nice, this was familiar. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill was none the wiser of the events that had taken place at the sleep over he wasn’t present for, or as they referred to it as, “The 14th”, because it technically happened on September 14th (thought some it happened on midnight- but that’s neither here nor there). And Richie and Eddie had no intention on telling him about it until they figured it out themselves. They knew that Bill already had enough to worry about, and enough trouble feeling good about his relationships, and they knew that that would only upset him. Bill was obsessively in love with Bill, constantly doting on him, smothering him with affection out of the fear that he could possibly leave him one day. And their relationship was not without it’s dysfunction, and they didn’t want to say something that, could very well be untrue, that could cause even more turmoil in that relationship. While Bill constantly doted on Stan, he was still very emotionally sensitive. Whenever Bill noticed a small shift in Stan’s feelings, he would withdraw completely, out of fear of getting hurt. But Stan, would always be there for him, and make sure he knew that he was loved and valued by him. And most of the time, those shifts were imagined- they didn’t know what he’d do if they told him something was actually wrong with Stanley, and that Stanley very well be a ticking time bomb- who had the potential to hurt someone, had the potential to hurt Bill. Stanley’s stability and dependability helped Bill a lot, and had a positive effect on his emotional sensitivity and need for control, and Richie didn’t know what would happen to Bill if he found out Stanley wasn’t as stable anymore. Stanley had mentioned, once, that Bill did something that was called “splitting”. And if Richie could remember, it was basically, that, Bill viewed things as either ‘black’ which meant, he hated them, couldn’t stand them, or ‘white’ and idealized them, loved them and wanted to spend all his time around them. And he knew, obviously, that in Bill’s eyes, Stan was white. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan was as white as freshly fallen snow. When Bill called Stan perfect, he truly, truly believed that. He seriously could not think of anything wrong with him, in his mind- he had no flaws. And Richie also remembered Stan saying something that, things that were ‘grey’ didn’t really exist, they were either bad, or good. He couldn’t see anything or anyone as having bits of both qualities, and look past the flaws and see the good. And Richie couldn’t imagine what it would do to Bill if he found out that Stan was not perfect, and in fact, was the complete and total opposite. He didn’t know what that would do to either of them. He knew that some of the smallest things, weren’t small to Bill. He asked the losers repeatedly if they disliked him, or wanted him gone, or if they had been talking about him behind his back over something major. He didn’t know what Bill would do if they told him he accidentally got his boyfriend possessed by the devil- or whatever the hell they’d done to Stan. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, or at least, not yet. And, they knew Stanley well enough to be sure he hadn’t told them either. Not that they spoke to him about it to know for sure. None of the losers had talked about it amongst themselves, they were still trying to come to their own conclusions independently. 



Hell, Richie and Eddie hadn’t even discussed it amongst themselves yet, and they told each other everything. They all pushed it as far back into their minds as possible, but it always came back, unfortunately. They didn’t want to think about it, they didn’t want to entertain all the evil possibilities of the events that might’ve taken place that night, because doing so would make it seem real. And they didn’t want it to be real, god they wanted it to be fake so bad. But the truth was, it was real. And the terror they felt that night was real, so real they could almost transport themselves to that mentality at any given moment, they could immerse themselves in that environment without even trying- that’s how impactful it was on them. It weighed heavy on all of their thoughts, it weighed heavy on their thoughts all the time. Regrettably, it was the forefront of all their thoughts; the first thing they remembered when they woke up, and the last thing they thought of as they fell asleep. They’d all been visited more than once by nightmares relating to that night, the terror on Stan’s face was haunting. They all couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible, especially Richie. He had to face the fact that the possibility that Stan had been possessed, or at least, had some encounter with evil, was turning into a very real possibility. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie and Eddie sat there in silence, watching the game. But their silence was shared, they often shared moments like that. They could talk without saying a word, they were in sync like that. They were both dazed, and their attention laid elsewhere. They focused more on their thoughts than the game. Until they were shaken away from them, literally. Bill gripped at Richie’s shoulder tightly, shaking him which in turn shook Eddie, bringing them both back to reality. “Guys!! Pay attention, you’re missing it!!” Bill cheered, face radiating with happiness as he spoke to them, eyes so wide they looked like big, blue oceans. “What are we missing?” Eddie asked, watching the field again. Bill laughed, “Stan’s about to get his second home run of the game!! Can you believe it??” He asked, his joy bursting like firecrackers as he spoke, and smiling so big Eddie wondered if his cheeks hurt. Richie and Eddie masked their growing concern with loud cheer, but they shared a brief moment of terror. That was great, but suspicious. Sure, stranger things have happened. But, two home runs, in such a short period of time, in the same game, right after Stanley could’ve been tampered with by the devil himself, it was worryingly suspicious. Bill was amazed, but suspected nothing. He just watched with awe, he watched him run across the field; at a speed in which he’d never seen before. He’d seen pretty much every game Stan had ever played, and he’d never seen him run tbat fast before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow...,” Was all Bill could say, and Richie saw him have a look on his face that was so evident of the love he felt for him. He wondered if his eyes would turn to hearts like in the cartoons, or if cartoon footing hearts would appear over his head. It was bittersweet how smitten he was, “You sure are whipped, huh, Denbrough?” Richie asked, trying to make light of it all, and all Bill could do was nod enthusiastically, not wanting to take his eyes off of his 11# for a single second, and in that, Richie got his answer loud and clear. He was so worried about Stanley getting hurt, he had forgotten to take Bill into account too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soon, the game was over. The night sky indicating that a lot of time had passed, it was pitch black out, Derry High School had won 6-0, and Bill couldn’t wait to congratulate him on that. Richie and Eddie, and Bill soon parted ways. “I’m gonna wait for Stan to be done in the locker room, and we’ll meet you guys at around 8, like we planned, sound good?” And Eddie and Richie both nodded a confirming yes. “And were all going to my house too! Don’t forget- and please don’t forget to bring your own pillows, and blankets- you know how my mom feels about outside germs in the house,” He added, rolling his eyes in annoyance at his mom’s embarrassing rules. Bill smiled reassuringly, “No worries.”. And those were their parting words. They walked into the crowd and Bill lost them in it, all the fans and parents quickly leaving the bleachers and dispersing into the crowd. He took a slow walk behind the bleachers to his car, he’d parked in the same spot he’d always parked in, and Stan knew he was picking him up, he was his ride there after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He’d wait patiently as he always did, because Stan was worth the reward of waiting every time. Bill got into his car, and put the key in to start it, just so he could play some music while he waited. He listened to his favourite the Grateful Dead cassette tape, smiling as he remembered that Stan had gotten that for him for his most recent birthday. He was so giddy to see him, he couldn’t help but smile, even though he was totally alone. He tapped his foot against the carpeted floor, like a metronome keeping the time as he waited. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Bill waited for him, across that very parking lot, in the locker room of Derry High School, Stan was reaching a breaking point he tried so hard to not reach. He was fighting a war of inner turmoil, and he was losing, badly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been a month since September 14th. And it had been a very, very strange time. He felt as though something evil was in him, he felt an air of malice that followed him wherever he went. He knew something wasn’t right. But, he wasn’t entirely that way. It was unexplainable. He had tried to research it, but he hadn’t been able to find anything, and he didn’t want anyone to know he was researching this sort of thing- because that would mean they would ask questions. And he had too many questions of his own, he couldn’t be going around answering other peoples questions. Not that he would have an answer, anyways. This was, in a way, a very humbling experience- he found out he really didn’t know all that much about things. And that his world must’ve been really fragile, if something like this could happen all of a sudden, and change everything so suddenly, so drastically. Or, maybe he just needed new friends. Nevertheless, he was still puzzled by something huge. He knew something had happened to him that night, something demonic of sorts. He hated to concede, and admit he was wrong- but he was wrong, and Eddie was right. That kind of shit was real, and it had occurred that night. The only silver lining, that meant that Richie was wrong too. And, since he was sure something satanic had occurred that night, and it had a lasting impact on him. He wondered why he could still pass the threshold into a church. Well, not a church exactly. A religious structure, though. He could still attend Synagogue with his parents every week, and his father, who was a Rabbi, didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He still wore a kippah every day, as well. And that was a deliberate, personal choice. So if he was being possessed by something, he still had freewill. He had remembered hearing that someone who had sinned, or was evil, or anything of that sort- couldn’t pass holy ground; and couldn’t participate in religious action. Wearing a kippah was an act of religious worship, going to Synagogue was an act of religious worship- how could he do all those things? So, he knew he wasn’t completely evil. He was only partially? And if so, what part?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley had noticed plenty of changes, some good, some bad, and some were a mix of both. He knew something had definitely happened to him that night, but he was still trying to wrap his head around all of it. He had noticed that a lot of his senses were heightened. He had had enhanced strength, that he tried not to make too noticeable. But he still felt it, and he had nearly broken his bedroom door right off of it’s hinges a couple of times when he misjudged his newly acquired ability, and slammed it too hard. It coursed through him, it was odd to be so aware of it. He had a really, really close call the other day at school, though. He and Bill had been walking to Bill’s car after school, and they were leaving the building as they walked together, and Bill was about to open the door for him, but Stan had said he had it, and wanted to open the door for them instead. He shoved it open, and it nearly came right out of the hinges. He cringed as he recalled that story, he really needed to be more careful. He also noticed that he had enhanced speed, as well. Which he was more than happy to use to his advantage. He used it that night, he distinctly remembered. But, he couldn’t go that fast around other people- that was an inhumane speed, that would no doubt cast unwanted attention. That was bound to cause suspicion. He used it to his advantage in small doses, like trying to get through a crowded hallway, or like he had that night, on the baseball diamond. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> It gave him a nice advantage on things, and who was he to decline that? He had also noticed some physical changes, too. Not just in the way he looked, but in the way he felt too. After he had satisfied both his sexual and blood lust that night, he felt amazing. He had felt so strong, he had felt nourished in a way that he had never felt before- a way he had never felt possible. He radiated for a few weeks after that, too. His hair had more life to it, his skin glowed, his body was leaner, his hips swivelled when he walked- he had a subconscious strut when he walked now, too. He carried himself differently now because he could, people were drawn to him now, people who he barely even knew were fawning over him. He was getting looks from people as he walked down the hallways, and not because he was holding another boys hand. People liked what they saw, more so than usual. Not that he was bad looking before, his beauty was just subtly enhanced now. It was odd. He even became a bit entranced when he looked at himself in the mirror now- and he had never been a vain person. It wasn’t even a matter of vanity, he couldn’t help but look at himself, and neither could anyone else. But, that feeling soon wore off. The farther into the past September 14th became, the worse he felt. His olive skin was losing its pigment, his hair was dull and lifeless, and he didn’t just look dead, he felt dead. He was weak, he no longer radiated, he no longer had an alluring sparkle to him. He had head aches all the time, and whenever he walked by a boy their blood was so intoxicatingly sweet his mouth would water- he could smell their blood and their lust. That’s all he saw when he looked at boys his age now; and he grew hungrier and hungrier when he could detect how much they wanted him. He hated that he saw the world like that now, but that’s how he saw it. Things had been so different so drastically in such a short amount of time. He knew he could one day have this under control if he had to live like this, he just needed more time. This was the first month since, so no doubt it would be tough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The more he thought about it, he came to come conclusions. He had come to the conclusion that he gained his strength from the act of seduction, and the act of killing, and eating his victims. And, when he drank the blood of his victims, that enhanced his beauty and seduction abilities; which perpetuated his ability to seduce boys, and kill them to drink their blood. It was a sick cycle, of sorts. And the more research he did, he found out that there was a mythological term for what this was, it was called a succubus. And if you would have told him, a month and a half ago, that he was going to be turned into a succubus in Richie Tozier’s backyard all because he accepted a dare on Eddie’s behalf when he was wine drunk- he would never have believed you. And, he still found it hard to believe. This not only challenged every theological principle he had come to develop, it also put him in a very difficult position. He needed to seduce his victims, have sex, and then drink their blood- according to all of the research he had done on succubi. But, he couldn’t do that- because he sure as hell wasnt going to cheat on Bill, and he sure as hell wasnt going to kill him either. But, the more he thought about what he had read and the more he had thought about his own experience. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He didn’t have to follow that order, exactly. That night, he seduced someone, then killed them, drank their blood, and then had sex. And that had worked just the same. So, he decided that was what he was going to. And, he was going to do whatever he had to do to protect Bill, and make sure he never, ever found out about this. He would do whatever he could to make sure none of his friends ever found out about this. This was going to remain his dirty little secret, forever and always. For so many reasons. He didn’t want them to worry, he didn’t want them to feel like they were in danger, and he sure as hell didn’t want them to know he was going to have to murder people to survive!!! This sure was the ethical debate of the century. You’ve heard the question, “Would you steal a loaf of bread to feed your family?”, now get ready for, “would you seduce and kill other men but never fuck them because you don’t want to cheat on the love of your life, and wouldn’t want to do anything sexual with them anyways because anything remotely relating to sex makes you deeply uncomfortable with anyone else but your boyfriend- but having sex is essential to your survival because you need to sleep with people and seduce them in order to get them into a position where they’re vulnerable enough for you to kill them and drink their blood?”. God, the more he thought about it, he was such a terrible human being. And the even more he thought about it, was he even a human being anymore? Was he more demon than boy? He felt disgusting most of the time, even if he did feel a nourishing invincibility. It still had a certain ‘ick’ factor he wanted so badly to shake. This whole experience was terrible for his mental health, as well. Not only did it bring up a lot of repressed memories of when he and his friends went down to those cursed sewers of Derry all those years ago to fight a demon. It was wreaking havoc on his obsessive compulsive disorder, that was already bad as it was- this was not a needed pressure. Germs and contaminates were always an obsession of his, but now more so than ever. Any free chance he had was spent cleaning his hands, and face. No matter how hard he washed, the contaminants of blood would never leave him. He felt so dirty, he felt so stained. The only time he felt remotely back to normal was when he was at his bathroom sink, washing his hands, working away at a stain that would never go away. He had never felt so tarnished. And those contributed to his intrusive thoughts, as well. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake those. His mind followed him wherever he went, and nobody hated that fact more than Stan. He had always had intrusive thoughts related to cleanliness and religion. Becoming a succubus strangely enough, heightened both. He now had a constant, obsessive need to try and clean himself, and to prove to God he wasn’t turning his back on his faith. He felt so evil, and he felt that evil grow and fester inside of him and call it home. He found himself repeating passages and prayers in their original hebrew under his breath or in his head for hours on end for forgiveness for his wrongdoings, more so than usual. Some days his intrusive thoughts were more debilitating than others, but it still hurt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
And he couldn’t even ask his parents to take him to see his psychiatrist to get an extra dosage of his prescription medication- he was afraid that would cause too much suspicion. He was constantly monitoring his behaviour to make sure he didn’t slip up, making sure he didn’t accidentally say something to trigger any flare up of suspicion in everyone and anyone he knew. He was constantly walking on eggshells no one else knew was there. The only thing he could think to do was call Bill and tell him about it, under the guise that his thoughts had gotten worse for no reason. And Bill would stay up talking with him for as long as it took, and would work him through it. And tell him that he was a great person, and didn’t need to ask God for forgiveness so often, and that he was perfectly clean as he was, and that he was absolutely perfect, too. And Stan wished more than anything he could believe him. Stan felt like such a bad boyfriend. He felt no better than Pennywise, killing innocent people like this. And Pennywise had taken Bill’s brother away, ruined his whole family, and did so much damage he was trying every day to help Bill work to undo. What if he was taking away someone’s ‘Georgie’, and he was leaving a trail of heartbroken ‘Bill’s as collateral damage. And what if all those ‘Bill’s would never find a Stanley of their own to help them pick up the pieces. He felt like this was the ultimate betrayal. He loved Bill so much, the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt him. He really hated all of this. Because he knew, no matter what the reason, murder was still murder. And murder was wrong. But, on the other hand- he would do anything to feel that good again. And, he knew he had to feel that good again. He was withering away without that feeling. And, if you thought about it- it really wasn’t his fault that this had happened to him. So, he figured he had to do what he had to do. And, he couldn’t put it off any further, he was going to do it tonight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan had played a great game that night, and he knew it. He was the reason his team one the game, and he knew that too. But, that didn’t mean that he would get tired of hearing that from other people, though. His teammates thanked him and congratulated him as they made their way to the locker rooms to change out of their uniforms when the game was over. And rightly so, as far as Stan was concerned. He predominately carried the team to championship after championship during regular season. But, he just thought that, he never acted like he was privy to that fact. He waited for everyone to be done so he could shower, he needed to shower after every game because he always felt so gross and dirty, and hated the smell of sweat on his skin. So he waited, and waited, and made casual conversion with his teammates as he waited. His teammates were nice enough, he considered a few of them friends, and considered even fewer of them friends enough to hang out with them outside of school and outside of baseball. But, he didn’t know them very well, and they didn’t know him very well either, or, well enough to make conversation that held actual substance. They were funny enough, nice enough, and Stan sometimes helped them with their math homework- but this was just conversion to pass the time until he could shower. He could never shower in front of anyone, for many reasons. It was a modesty thing, and also a bit of self consciousness. It also was because he didn’t want anyone to see all of the hickies Bill decorated his body with. He thought it was cute, and he liked to look at them quite often- but he would get embarrassed if anyone else were to see them. Even Bill had to admit, he was a bit excessive at times. But the biggest reason, was because he liked to take his time, and he didn’t want his teammates to make fun of him for taking so long. His teammates aren’t exactly the most informed or cordial towards intrusive thoughts and obsessions. He waited until finally, he was the last one in the change room. He grabbed his towel and change of clothes and headed for the door that separated the showers from the lockers. He opened the door, and set his things down calmly. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he heard a voice call his name, taking him completely by surprise. “Oh, hey Stan,” he heard, making Stan jump a bit at the unexpected presence there. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” The voice spoke again, shaking a bit with sincere apology. Stan laughed to himself, “Oh, it’s no worry. I just thought I was the last one here,” Stan smiled, turning around to look at who was speaking to him. The voice belonged to Peter Slowik, the first baseman of the team. He was nice enough, but Stan didn’t know him too well to know for sure. He was in his grade, but he had oddly enough never had a class with him. He was an alright baseball player, from what Stan had observed. He was roughly the same height as he was, and had pale skin that was so white it almost looked like porcelain. His hair was dark black, and slightly damp from being in the shower, and got into his eyes just a bit- Stan could tell he needed a hair cut. The cool undertones of his skin made his tawny eyes pop. His lips were almost as colourless as his skin was, and were thin and expressionless, he couldn’t tell if he was happy or upset to see him, but his blush told Stan all he needed to know. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan was good at reading people, but he wasn’t all knowing. Before, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it that blush was out of interest or embarrassment. But now, Stan had a trick up his sleeve, his new heightened abilities. He could smell his lust from there, he wanted him, and he wanted him bad. He wasn’t out, and he hadn’t been bold enough to make a move on him previously, but, what Peter didn’t know was that Stan could know, and his lust was telling him all he needed to. The old Stanley would’ve denied, and fought tooth and nail that anyone had a crush on him- but now, he knew the evidence was stacked against him on that. So many people had hidden lust for him- he wasn’t sure how many people actually had organic lust, or it was because of his succubi seduction- but still! So many people wanted him, and he could smell it here too- he wanted him so badly it was almost pungent, he could smell that from a mile away. He could smell his blood from a mile away too, probably. It smelt so good, and Stan was determined to do anything to get it. And he probably could get it, too. He wanted him, his lust and blush gave everything away. Stan did not reciprocate that blush, Stan was not the least bit interested in anyone other than Bill so, he was not paying this scenario the least bit of mind. But he could hear his heartbeat from across the showers. It was beating like drum against his chest. Stan saw an opportunity here, he didn’t know where this was going to go but- maybe if he played his cards right he could get out of here glowing. And he intended to play his cards right. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silent seconds ticked away and lasted for what felt like eons. If Peter wasn’t going to make a move, Stan at least wanted him to hurry up, he wanted to shower and get back to Bill- who was probably worried about him by now. Stan was actually contemplating to tell him to speed things the hell up (in a more polite way of course, in a way only Stanley could do without sounding rude), before Peter finally spoke again. “Hey um, I- I know you’re always the last one in here so, I waited for you.” He said, nervously toying with his fingers as he seemingly was working up the courage to ask Stan something, “Oh, is that so?” Was all Stan could think to say, he had no idea how to respond to that. He didn’t phrase it as a good or bad thing, it just was. Stan did had to admit, this was starting to get a bit awkward. It was awkward not because he was naked, but because Stan was still fully clothed, he just wanted to get on with this- this was the last place he wanted to be tonight, and he was spending it with someone who wasn’t even the last person he’d want to be with. At least if it was the last person he’d want to be with, that would be interesting. This was the furthest thing from it. If he wanted to spend time with someone who would be mentally undressing him, he’d spend time with Bill- but that would actually he eventful because that would lead to something. This; from the looks of it, wasn’t going to be as promising as Stan thought. “Yah, I Um... I wanted to ask you something,” He spoke, finally, he was going to spit it out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go on,” Stan replied in a steady pace, a pace so slow and unassuming he hoped that it wouldn’t give away how annoyed he was quickly getting. “Are you seeing anyone?” He asked quickly, speaking so fast so that he wouldn’t have time to convince himself to stop talking, he closed his eyes and mentally cringed at how awkward he just sounded, and Stan couldn’t blame him. It was cute when Bill got flustered like that, but that nervousness didn’t look cute on anyone else. “Cus, I see you walking with that Denbrough guy a lot, so I wanted to know if there was, something going on,” Stan couldn’t help but notice the malice in his voice as he said that, he was jealous. “No,” Came Stan’s steady reply. He lied not because he wanted to do anything with him, all he wanted was to seem available. He wasn’t going to ever cheat on Bill, he just wanted this to get going so he could feed on his soul already! He heard his heart rate speed up excitedly, and his lust became more poignant now that he thought he had an even higher chance of something happening between them. And Stan couldn’t help but fight a smirk, maybe something could happen that night... not the same kind of something that Peter was hoping for, though. “Oh well um, in that case I uh- I have another question,” He broke the silence again, his voice less tense but he was still nervous, but he was growing more comfortable around Stan. “Go for it,” Stan enticed, smiling as he spoke, playing into that feeling for comfort. “Well, I was wondering. I’ve um, I’ve kind of liked you for a bit now. And, I figured, maybe we could... celebrate such a big win at my place. And I figured, things would work out because, both of my parents are out of town so....” Peter’s voice trailed off as he spoke, or maybe he did say something after. Stan wasn’t entirely sure. All he could focus on was the fact his parents were out of town. No one knew he was here right now. To anyone’s knowledge, he had left half an hour ago. And no one knew he was there either, this was working out. He couldn’t derail this, he had to think of a way to keep him here so he could kill him, but also give him hope that they were going to leave the locker room together, soon. “I’d love to!” Stan said, with such a level of clearly exaggerated enthusiasm it was a wonder how Peter didn’t see through it. Peter smiled happily at that, but his smile turned to a smirk as he watched Stan walk closer to him. His smirk was laced with sin, but little did he know- the devil himself was inching towards him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure I’d love to...” Stan repeated again following Peter’s lead, his voice doused in seduction. “But... lemme just give you something.. for the road,” Stan continued, dropping to his knees in front of Peter, who looked down at him with lust filled eyes. His lust smelled so good it made Stan want to sink his teeth into him already. But, he couldn’t do that yet. He wasn’t lulled into a strong enough sense of security yet. It felt so gross to be looked at that way by someone who wasn’t Bill. He couldn’t wait for this to all be done so he found just eat him already. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
Stan thought about the logistics of this situation as he sunk to his knees, his uniform getting wet as he knelt on the white tiled floor of the showers. He couldn’t help but wonder the last time they’d been bleached and cleaned. He thought for a moment. Stan knew that no one knew that they were there. And, he also knew that the locker rooms were sound proofed so the loud gym classes didn’t disturb the surrounding classes next to and above them. If Stan was a spider, his prey had just flown right into his web. “Hey if... if we might be here a while, you might as well... take your uniform off.. so it doesn’t... yknow... get too wet, so you can put it back in your gym bag,” Stan mentally rolled his eyes, “Sure... you want me to take my jersey off so I don’t get wet.. okay...” He thought to himself sarcastically. He got up, took his jersey off, and his baseball slacks and underwear, folding them neatly and meticulously evenly and placing them into his gym bag that he had brought his change of clothes in. He hoped that Peter wouldn’t notice he wasn’t at all hard while this was happening and think something wasn’t right. Stan couldn’t help it though, this wasn’t at all arousing; because he wasn’t Bill. For one thing, he wasn’t anything to write home about- or maybe Bill had just given him high expectations. He wasn’t going to tell Richie at the sleep over when he asked, but yes, his nickname was accurate. Stan counted down the seconds until it was over. “So.. where was I...” Stan purred, walking back over to Peter and back down to his knees. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Peter put his hand through Stan’s curly hair as he got closer to his member, that was already hard and ready for him. Stan had to fight the urge to swat his hand away, because anyone’s hand but Bill’s didn’t belong in his hair. It felt weird, it didn’t feel anywhere near as nice when Bill did it. When Bill ran his hands through Stan’s hair as he was about to give him head, and during; it made him feel so loved, it made him feel like he was such a good boy for him- but it also made him feel like such a slut. It was perfect, everything Bill did to him was perfect. This was a means to an end, this was going to be over soon. He inched closer to him, inching closer to the end that was approaching soon. He licked his lips, not because he was going to suck him off- but because he was so ready to feel blood running from his lips again. To feel the taste, to see the intoxicating red colour, to feed off of the delicious fear, to see the helpless look in his eyes as he realized quickly he had lost all control. He could smell the delicious iron scent through the skin that couldn’t wait to be punctured. And Stanley couldn’t wait anymore either. Peter closed his eyes, expecting his member to be taken into his mouth- except, that was not the case when he opened his eyes again. He yelled in pain, frantically opening his eyes to the horror that awaited him. Stan had bitten his left leg clean off, and savoured the taste of blood as ate, cursing the red liquid that got away and poured down the drain. His fear was even more delicious, the terror etched in his face, the fear that would be permanently there after tonight (if there was anything left of his remains, that was), felt amazing to him. Little by little, he could feel himself become nourished again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Stan knew it, Peter Slownik was gone without a trace, all that was left of him had been washed down the drain. And cleaned up using the industrial strength chemicals that he found conveniently in the janitorial closet across the hall. Before Stan knew it, he was changing into his favourite beige sweater and skinny jeans with rips in the thighs, walking away completely unscathed and unassuming. As if nothing had happened, walking away from a death he caused but would never be questioned over. Murder was easy when you were your own disposal system. And again, before Stan knew it, the events of the locker room shower meshed together into one big blur. He watched the highlight reel of memories play in his thoughts as he walked out of the school and into the parking lot to find his boyfriend. He was so ready to see his boyfriend, too. Thinking about how good his boyfriend’s hands felt in his hair for a minute or two really did a number on him. He couldn’t wait to experience the real thing, his member pressed harshly against the fabric of the pants he’d brought to change into after the game. He couldn’t wait for the sweet release of Bill’s touches to bring him to completion, he was so close to reaching his peak that night. Now that he knew how easy it was, he wouldn’t let himself go this long without feeling this great ever again. He stumbled through the vast, somewhat empty parking lot to find his boyfriend’s car. He had expected the parking lot to be more empty, though. There were a few scattered cars here and there, he assumed one of the cars had to be Peter’s and the others were those of teenagers with nothing better to do still loitering the bleachers. That made him happy though, that there were still people there. He didn’t take as long as he thought he did, the last thing he’d want to do is keep his Bill waiting. He took off his rose coloured glasses for a moment and realized that he probably hadn’t even been in the locker rooms that long, seconds just felt like hours when they were apart- as cheesy as that sounded. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> The parking lot lights flickered around him as he walked. After a few more minutes, he finally found Bill’s car parked in the same spot he’d always parked at, in a more secluded part of the parking lot. He walked over to it, and knocked on the glass of the passenger window gently, to let him know he was there, but not to startle him too bad. He was a bit surprised at the sudden sound, but happiness washed over him like a tidal wave when he realized it was Stanley. He looked at him for a moment behind the glass, stunned. He had looked the same way that he had when he came into his window all those weeks ago. He looked so pretty- not that he didn’t before, he had just seemed to radiate lately. And he had lost some of that radiance as the weeks passed but, he seemed to have found it again. He opened his door, and got out. He placed a quick kiss to Stan’s forehead before taking his bag, and putting it in the trunk before shutting it harshly with a loud thud. He opened the passenger side door for him, and closed it behind him when he sat down, closing it a lot more gentler than how he closed his trunk, though. He eagerly got into his side and shut the door behind him, and turned off his The Grateful Dead cassette so he could talk to him. While they were his favourite band- nothing they could make would ever compare to his favourite sound in the world; the sound of Stan’s voice. Stan felt a smile creep onto his lips when he realized that that was the cassette he had bought him awhile ago. “Hey before I forget,” Bill spoke out of nowhere, “We’re going to go get something to eat with Richie and Eddie, and then go back to Eddie’s place. You remember to bring extra clothes?,” he reminded gently in case he had forgotten. “Don’t worry, I didnt. Didn’t as in, I didn’t forget that we were going, I brought extra clothes and stuff,” He replied, he felt so warm and so loved. He liked how Bill was always this gentle with him, he liked the feeling of being cared for. And Stan hoped he could reciprocate that care. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I brought one of my hoodies extra for you in case you forgot. I know you love to sleep in them. But, at this point, you probably have more of my hoodies than I have of my own” Bill mused, smiling fondly. Stan couldn’t help but feel so light, dizzy almost. Being with him was like a dream. “Thank you for caring so much, you’re an angel, you really are the best,” he validated him as he did so often. He knew he couldn’t fix Bill and make all of his issues go away, but he could help him, and praise him to no end, which he knew he needed. Bill turned, and looked at him, and took his two small hands into his much larger one; and held them, playing with his fingers tenderly. He looked at him with a tender devotion, and Stan returned that look with one of pure adoration. They were so in love with each other. It was a magical moment that only seemed to intensify, from the gleam in each other’s eyes, to the way the stars made visible from the skylight reflected in them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You played so great tonight, baby, I was so proud of you!!” Bill beamed with pride, and Stan couldn’t help but blush and giggle with an innocence he felt happy to have come back, it was an innocence only Bill could bring out, “Thank you so much,” He replied, with a heartfelt sincerity, as if that was the first time he’d been told that that night. But, it might as well have been. It was only Bill’s approval that mattered to him, at the end of the day. And he’d blush madly every time he was given that approval- which was very, very regularly- but, even so. It never got old, and Stan knew that it never would, either. Stan smiled and looked at the ground nervously, still as adorably nervous as he was on their first date- the feeling of puppy love would never leave him. “I got those two home runs for you... I wanted you to be proud of me!!” Stan grinned, looking into Bill’s blue eyes, that looked back at him with so much love it made him feel warm all over. Not the hot to the touch feeling he usually felt, but the warmness only Bill could give him. He wished his eyes were actually the oceans they resembled, so he could down in them, be fully immersed in their beauty. Everything about Bill was beautiful. From the way his lips curved invitingly, to the way the autumn grey skies had caused the small amount of freckles he had on his nose to start to fade. Bill smiled, “I’m always gonna be proud of you, honey, you dont ever gotta worry about trying to impress me, I’m always gonna be impressed by how great you are,” And Stan knew he meant every word of it, he smiled back at him and beamed with a look that screamed “tell me more, oh please! tell me more!” And Bill always knew what that look meant, and told him more as he always did. “I’m always gonna be proud of you, Stan. You were unreal out there. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, I really am, Stan,” He inched closer to him, and his voice got lower in a way that always went straight to Stan’s groin. He was so intoxicating without even trying, he could get drunk off of this. Stan pouted and shook his head no, Bill laughed and looked at him with a confused look, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean, no?” He asked lightheartedly, “You’re not the luckiest guy in the world, because I’m right here, and I’m dating you! That makes me the luckiest guy in the world,” Stan’s voice got lower to match Bill’s. As always, as in all aspects of life, they were on the same page about the course of events for that night. Stan was growing high of anticipation alone. He had grown addicted to the way blood and fear made him feel in the short time that he had experienced its power, but he had grown even more addicted to the way Bill made him feel- and holy shit, did he crave another fix.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan ran his tongue along his teeth and realized in all of the events of that night, he had left his baseball mouth guard on. Bill inched closer to Stan’s face, slowly closing his eyes, Stan pulled away at the moment they were half lidded. Bill looked at him with concern, worried he had done something wrong. His heart broke at feeling of possible ensuing rejection. Stan smiled reassuringly, “No, no, its not that I don’t wanna kiss you or anything, I just still have my mouth guard,” He explained, smiling with his teeth showing so Bill could see the blue plastic where his teeth should be. Bill let his hands go and Stan, opened his mouth and took it out; not knowing where else to put it, out it in his pocket. That triggered something in Bill as he watched him take it out. His oral fixation had been no secret. To see him, just now- was a sight. His lips, as beautiful as always, the perfect shade of pale pink, slightly swollen, and covered in saliva now. He watched the way his lips stretched around his fingers as he took his mouth guard out, that dripped a bit of spit down onto his chin. He needed to see that mouth be put to use. He needed to kiss that pretty little mouth of his as soon as possible. Bill leaned in closer once Stan was done. He learned into his lap, placing a hand on his upper thigh for support as he got as close as possible, breathing him in as much as possible. Taking in the scent that was distinctly Stan after baseball, the lavender of his soap and the honey of his conditioner- mixed with a musk that was all his own. He wanted to take his time with him, he wanted this to be agonizingly slow and agonizingly sensual. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He trailed his hand up his thigh, slowly, enunciating his featherlight touches with the encore of his palm. He felt his growing erection that was pressed against the material of his jeans and Stan let out a low whimper as he shivered under his touch. He was so far gone he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed for already being so eager- he was so ready for him, he was was so ready for the inevitable bliss he craved. “Fuck, you’re already hard...” Bill commented shamelessly, Stan’s face grew hot and all he could do was nod meekly, whimpering still because Bill’s hand had never left, he was still rubbing experimentally. Bill thought he was already so hard because he was just that good at setting the mood. When really, if only Bill knew. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> If only Bill knew that it was really because Stan was horny out of his god damn mind because he craved sex to be nourished. Bill took his whimpers as the invitation to keep going, and Stan was thankful for it; the anticipation was slowly eating away at him. He needed this too bad to be played with. Bill cupped Stan’s blushing face in his hand. He breathed against his inviting lips, their lips are inches away from each other and Stan is trying to keep calm and mask how badly he wants this. Stan sighed lovingly as Bill turned to speak into his skin, he got goosebumps when Bill’s hot breath grazed against his skin, “Can I kiss you, babydoll?” Bill asked, his voice simultaneously rough as sandpaper yet sweet as silk, and he used one of Stan’s favourite pet names too. Stan sighed longingly, “Oh please...” He spoke, desperate need in his voice, and he continued, “...but, I hope you do a lot more than just kiss me.” Bill barely had time to process what he said or the delicious way in which he said it, before Stan kissed him harder than he could ever recall kissing him. Stan had no idea where this sudden confidence came from, under any normal circumstances, he would’ve sighed a desperate, ‘yes’,  but he hadn’t. He ran both hands deep into Bill’s auburn hair and kissed into him like his life depended on it, shivering with need into Bill’s touch. Bill bit his lip experimentally, and ran his tongue over his lips. Stanley’s breath hitched and he gladly invited him in. Massaging their tongues together in a way that left them both breathless, Stan mewled into the kiss, groaning softly into his lovers mouth. Nothing could ever taste as sweet as his lovers kiss, he felt dizzy. He was on cloud nine and didn’t want this to end. Bill sucked Stan’s plump bottom lip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his in the process. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan intertwined his fingers into his hair, pulling tightly, kissing him as deeply as he possibly could, wanting Bill to kiss him as hard as possible. He loved the rush he got from the dizziness- dizzy from lust and dizzy from lack of oxygen. But, you needed to come up for air at some point, and that was always his least favourite part. Bill pulled away to catch his breath, taking a passing nibble on Stan’s lip as they parted. Watching as the string of saliva that still connected their lips broke apart. Stan stared up at him with half lidded eyes, relishing in what had just happened but needing more. “Woah...” He murmured against his skin, stroking his cheek as they both panted, catching their breath as they came up for air, as they both breathed in each other’s air. “I just.. really like it when you call me such sweet names,” Stan explained, looking away for a second to not meet his eyes, he was still a bit embarrassed about things like this. That peaked Bill’s interest, he tilted Stan’s chin up so their eyes were aligned again, forcing him to look up at him. “Like what...” He asked with faux innocence, lowkey trying to embarrass him, he got so cute when he was flustered. “Babydoll, and princess... and babyboy... and things like that. I dunno.. they just make me feel really cute.”  He admitted sheepishly, and Bill couldn’t help but melt at the hazy vermillion blush ghosting against his cheeks. “Well.. you are cutest boy alive, so...” He came closer again, their noses touching, but the inch between their lips felt like a mile to Stan. “Babyboy...” He purred against his lips before he closed the gap between them, both wishing it could remain closed forever. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They kissed just as intensely as they did the first time, only this time a lot sloppier, both so drunk with passion. It was sloppy, and Stan could feel the lust and the heat radiating from his lover as he clawed desperately at his back, running his fingers down the soft flannel fabric of his shirt. He sucked on his tongue with feverish need, kissing him so hard he thought his lips would bruise. He wanted this so badly, he wanted him so badly. His mind was racing at a million miles a minute. He had played a good game today, and he was more than happy to be praised for that. But, he wanted to be praised from a new perspective. After a few more minutes, he pulled away again, only this time, not to catch his breath, although some oxygen would probably do him some good. “Can we... fast forward until I go down on you....” He spoke quickly and breathlessly, a hint of beg in his voice. He took both hands from Bill’s back and immediately covered his mouth in embarrassment, he couldn’t believe he just said that. He wanted to say it, and he wanted it to be heard- but it was so unlike him to say something like that. He had no idea where this sudden confidence came from, but he liked the way Bill looked at him when he spoke in such a way- so he rolled with it. Bill pulled his hands away from his lips, and planted a gentle kiss there. A smile tugged on his lips, “Baby.. you’re so cute...” He praised softly, he spread his legs further apart in his seat, inviting him to continue. Stan took his newfound confidence and ran with it, accepting his invitation. He undid his zipper with shaky hands, pulling his jeans down his thighs, and Bill helped him take off his pants down the rest of his long legs. His boxers were the only clothing covering his member now, but they did nothing to hide how hard he was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He gripped at his armrest now, anticipation clouded his mind. “I’m aren’t the only one who’s hard now,”Stan whispered, “F-fuck... how could I not be....” Bill replied, running a hand through his hair, fighting back the urge to tug on his hair and pull him closer. “Please.. baby...” He begged softly, in a voice that sounded of pure sin. His desire was so pungent Stan thought that if he inhaled it long enough he could get high off of it. His enhanced senses were certainly something to get used to. He felt a bit bad for making him wait, so finally, he pulled his boxers down, and taking his member into his hand. Bill sighed, the feeling of Stan touching him that way made him feel so lightheaded. He felt wonderful- but he wanted more so badly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan was happy to give him more, but not quite yet. He placed soft, featherlight kisses on his tip, and slowly stroked up his length, and Bill groaned in protest, he couldn’t take this teasing, shuddering in anticipation. He took his head past his soft lips, dipping his tongue into the slit the way he knew he liked, lapping up the precum with his tongue. Bill grabbed the armrest harshly at the new sensation, groaning as his boyfriend hollowed his cheeks and got ready to take him in deeper. Stan swallowed around him as he took more into his mouth. He looked up at him through half lidded eyes and long eyelashes, and Bill melted into his warm brown eyes. He stroked his cheek as he continued to deepthroat him, taking as much of him in as possible- his eyes watering the slightest bit. He looked so pretty like this, just starting to look messy. Stan loved to be looked at like that, he loved the way Bill looked down at him with such adoration, like he was made of gold or something. “Tu es... insondable... vraiment parfait...” He praised under his breath, his words turning to moans the longer he tried to speak, his nails digging further and further into the armrest he held onto. He was close now, and they both could tell. Stan wanted so badly to feel him cum deeply into his throat, he came further undone at the thought of it. God, the noises Stan was making were fucking obscene, and he knew Bill loved it way too much. His hand tightened in his hair, “Gunna... gunna cum soon...” He barely managed to get out cohesively. Stan continued, swirling his tongue around the length of his cock. Bill was so close now- he didn’t know how long he was going to last if Stan kept doing that. He grabbed a tighter hold of his hair, pulling it taunt by the root, and thrust himself in and out of his boyfriends mouth. Stan moaned in delight against his cock, he felt so used like this- he loved being treated like that by him. After a few more thrusts, his hand slipped out of his hair as he came, hard into his mouth, and Stan sucked him through his orgasm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill threw his head back against the seat, moaning out a string of curses and his lovers name, panting as he tried to regain composer as he released. Stan stayed like that for a minute or so, just like that. He released his lovers cock from his mouth with an obscene pop sound, opening his mouth wide so his boyfriend could see his cum still on his tongue, “Holy fuck you’re hot...” Bill said as Stan closed his mouth and swallowed it happily, his tongue poking out from his mouth to catch a bit that spilled from the corner of his lips. Stan bit back a moan at the praise. “Do you wanna.. or...” He couldn’t speak very coherently now, he just hoped Stan knew what he was talking about, and Stan definitely knew what he was talking about. “Oh fuck... please,” He nearly screamed, and Bill was happy with that reaction. It felt really nice to be wanted, and Stan wanted him more than he could possibly imagine, more than he could ever let himself believe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan kicked his shoes off, and put his socks neatly inside them. He stretched his legs over the cup holders, and clumsily went to the back seat of the car, laying on the back seats, spreading his legs invitingly for Bill to join him. Bill quickly followed Stan, and Stan couldn’t help but think he looked a bit ridiculous, since he was still fully clothed apart from his pants. As if reading his mind, he situated himself between his legs that were as open as the invitation they represented, and whispered huskily, “We should get this off you, yah?” And Stan nodded a bit more enthusiastically than he’d care to admit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He raised his arms up as Bill tugged at the bottom of his soft sweater, peeling it off of him, and setting it off to the side on the floor of the car. Stan laid back down, and Bill eyed him hungrily from above him. The cool night air and the cold leather he laid upon was such a contrast to his hot skin, that burned more than usual. He felt so exposed under Bill’s gaze, and he liked it that way, because he knew Bill really liked what he saw. He couldn’t help himself, he sunk down lower and kissed his neck. His kisses trailed lower to his collar bones, dipping his tongue in their gap before biting at them harshly, Stan mewled at the sudden pain. Bill kissed even lower, until he reached the unexplored blank canvas of his lover’s chest. He wanted to decorate the vacant flesh there with hickeys in every shade of purple and pink, wanting to make a mosaic of lovebites there. He looked so beautiful marked up like that; marked up by him and him alone. Stan was so noisy underneath him, and entangled his hair into his auburn locks, wanting to make sure he stayed there forever. And Bill thought that act of adorable desperation pointless- as if he wanted to be anywhere else. He thought of no better location than in between Stan Uris’ thighs. Bill’s hands held his clothed hips in place as he trailed his lips lower, kissing at his protruding hip bone, and biting at the skin that lay there as well. He lapped his tongue around the soft skin of his stomach, circling his belly button before ultimately achieving his designation- just above the waistband of his jeans. His breath hitched, he was so eager to see his jeans go. His hands grabbed a hold of his hips even tighter, and possessively flipped him over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan loved being manhandled like that, he liked being put in his place like that. It was a sharp dissimilarity to the newfound power he felt coursing through  his veins, and he liked it. His face was pressed against the cold leather of the seats, and he felt a bit degraded. Ass up, face down like this. “You gonna fuck me?” Stan asked, he was hoping for a bit more foreplay but he would be perfectly fine with skipping it too, because the sooner he came the sooner he could finally catch the completion he’d been chasing all night. Bill laughed cockily from behind him, and Stan knew he had a smirk on his face- he couldn’t see it, but it was evident in his tone. “Oh I definitely will.. but not like this baby, I like to see the look on your face when you cum too much to fuck you from behind... that was a one time deal,” He explained, and Stan felt his pants grow tighter the more Bill talked like that. His dirty talk always went right to his groin. And soon enough, the evidence of just how much it effected him was in front of his eyes. Without warning, one of his hands that tightly held his hips, snakes around to grab his zipper and quickly pull it down, pulling his pants down as well- and taking his briefs with him. “So.. so pretty...” Bill spoke quietly, so quietly in fact that Stan didn’t know it was meant for his ears or not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Regardless, he heard it, and he felt his member twitch between his thighs as he did. Bill ran a hand over his hip, rubbing circles lovingly into his skin, his hand trailing to the small of his back, his other hand, rubbing even more softly at his hole, never once delving any deeper though- to Stan’s dismay. “So fucking pretty baby.... I wanna eat you out so badly princess.. fuck...” He thought out loud, biting his own lip as he could barely contain himself either, Stan let out a loud moan, he wanted that so badly he wasn’t even sure how he could put it into words without sounding completely out of his mind with desperation. “Can I?” He asked, as if he even had to. He took Stan’s strained breaths and groans of what sounded like an “Oh... Bill,” as a yes, and brought his face closer to him, spreading his thighs even more, and arching his back even more so his pretty little hole was even more on display for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan’s thighs started to shake a bit, anticipation killing him. This was Bill’s sort of ‘revenge’ for teasing him, he’d give him a taste of his own medicine for a moment or too, wanting to take his sweet time. He let his teeth scrape against the soft skin of ass, gently sucking marks into the pale skin there, moaning into the flesh when Stan sobbed into the seat. He kissed each mark soothingly, and lapped his tongue over each one of them after. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me, right? Loud and everything, just how I like?” Bill asked, and Stan helplessly nodded, unable to say anything anymore- he wanted this so had he couldn’t think anymore. His breath ghosted against his hole before his tongue did, tracing the outline of it with the tip of his tongue, Stan whined as he did so. He licked at it now, intention behind his movements now. They were no longer hazy, they were definite- he didn’t want to keep himself waiting either. He prodded at his desperate entrance experimentally, before sliding into him fully. He pushed his tongue quickly past the ring of his enterance, his hand finding his boyfriends member as he did so. Stan didn’t know how long he was going to last now, he was already so hard from sucking him off- he was sure after a couple strokes on his dick he’d cum and fall apart. He kept one hand on his hip, and the other was preoccupied, rubbing circles into his balls softly, massaging his perineum every once in awhile as well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan writhed underneath him, thrusting against the seat ever so softly, needing to feel some friction against his dick. Combining with the sensation of Bill tongue fucking him, he felt so lightheaded he couldn’t think straight, his thoughts weren’t at all coherent- let alone his words. All he could pant out were strained moans and his lovers name, saying it like it was sacred, repeating it like a mantra, repeating it like it was the only thing he knew. Bill spat against his entrance, making sure it was perfectly slick with spit before sliding a finger into his hole to accompany his tongue there. Stan cried out as he felt his prostate start to get teased, his finger got close, but never hit it dead on. He bit his lip, his release was so close. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill was timing his strokes against his member to his thrusts inside of him, and the way his tip rubbed up against the seats didn’t help either. “B-Bill, I’m gonna-“ He moaned loudly, and just as he was about to, Bill’s hand no longer was jerking him off. His tongue had left his hole and so did his finger, and Stan felt empty at the loss of his lover’s touch. He felt like he was going to explode, surely, one more touch was going to be his undoing. Bill grabbed his hips again and flipped him over, so he was facing him again. He looked deep into his eyes which were clouded by carnal desire- and seemed to be darkened by it too. His eyes no longer glowed an aqua blue, his eyes gleamed with the colour of the deepest pools of water at midnight, now. “Don’t cum until I tell you to,” Bill spoke flatly, as it was a nonnegotiable, it came out as a command. And Stan didn’t know wether that was an option at this point. Bill took off his one remaining article of clothing, his shirt, leaving him just as bare as Stan was. But, given their current position, Stan was sure he didn’t feel nearly as exposed as he was. And then he remembered their current location. They were in a parking lot, sure, it was a secluded part of the parking lot. But! It was still a parking lot nonetheless. And that was oddly freeing, and so hot. He bit his lip harshly at the thought of someone being able to walk by and see them like this, to see Bill between his quivering thighs, aligning his big, hard cock with his desperate entrance. To be able to see the way Bill was looking at him, and to see the way that Stan was barely able to stay still because of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Fuck baby... how bad do you want it...” Stan looked up at him, breathlessly. “More than anything... please, Bill.” He pleaded, looking up at him with big, puppy dog eyes. He knew Bill liked when he got like this, and he was more than happy to give him the confidence boost. He didn’t have any shame when it came to Bill, so he didn’t mind doing things that were in any other context, a bit degrading. Hell, he loved being degraded when he was with him- even though he knew that was a bit wrong. He stroked his cheek adoringly, looking at his pleading eyes with his lustful blue ones, “You look so damn pretty when you’re desperate,” He cooed, and Stan could only moan in response. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He held two fingers in front of Stan’s swollen and reddened lips, and Stan knew instinctively what to do. He took them between his lips eagerly, licking them and sticking them up with spit. Bill grunted in pleasure as he pulled them away from him, he really was too good at that sort of thing- and Bill knew he knew that. Bill took his fingers, now slick with spit, and thrust them both into Stan’s hole. He was already fingered open a bit, so he was sure he was able to take two at once now. He watched as Stan’s face contorted in pleasure and a bit of pain at the sudden intrusion, his whimpers turning to moans quickly as Bill prodded at him. He thrust his fingers into him, ghosting against his prostate, and Stan thrust his hips in time with Bill’s thrusts- wanting to get as much out of this as possible. Bill kept the prep to a minimal, though, as he knew Stan was about to cum as it was. He pulled his fingers out of him just as soon as he felt Stan’s hips start to buck against them. Stan whimpered at the sudden loss of his fingers, missing the feeling already. He always felt so incomplete without him in him as soon as he left. But, thankfully for him, unbeknownst to him as he still had his eyes shut, Bill was aligning himself with his tight  entrance once more. His eyes jolted back open though, once he felt Bill slide his tip into his slicked hole. Bill groaned at the tightness, biting his lip, he knew he probably wouldn’t last much longer than Stanley would. He fit into Stan so perfectly, it was like he was made to take his cock- he was incredible. He buried himself further in Stan, watching him take him so beautifully. He praised him all the way through, until he bottomed out. “You take me so well baby, look at you, look at you all stretched around me...” Bill praised loudly, over enunciating his words in an attempt to be more understandable. Stan looked at him with eyes that seemed to be quarter lidded, he was so fucked out he could barely keep his eyes open. And Bill had never seen something so pretty. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “P-please, Start moving, Bill,,,” Came his purred reply, thrusting his hips against his still cock to get any kind of friction. Bill laughed at his attempt, and pressed their foreheads together, kissing him as he slid out, and continued their kiss as he slammed back in. Stan groaned into his open mouth, but was careful not to bite him. He still mad a lot more research to do on the affects of succubi bites, and didn’t think that it was worth the risk to do until he knew that there was a 100% chance Bill would walk away unharmed and unaffected. Bill thrust in and out of him quickly and sloppily, his end was coming soon as well. Sounds of skin on skin, and their moans filled the car, and the windows grew blurry with steam from their hot breaths. “You can.. you can come whenever you want, doll,” He whispered ever so breathlessly in love, taking his hand in his as his other stayed put on his hip. He loved to hold Stan’s hand as they came. Stan nodded in understanding, and tensed up. Bill could feel him quiver and tighten around him, actions indicative of an end that was sure to happen soon. He lasted for a few more thrusts, before cumming. He came all over both of their stomachs, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open as he met his end. He screamed Bill’s name as loud as his lungs would allow, basking in the pleasure and feeling of power that washed over him as Bill fucked him through his orgasm. He didn’t just see stars, he saw the whole galaxy behind his eyelids as he was overtaken in pleasure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill wasn’t far behind, spilling deep inside of Stan, the feeling that Stan longed for. He felt so full, and so warm as his cum drilled out of his hole that was still being stretched completely by Bill’s twitching cock that was still inside of him. Bill gripped his hand hard as he came, his nails digging into Stan’s hand. Bill’s other hand found its way to Stan’s spent cock, giving it a few strokes while Bill regrouped from his own climax. He waited to regain his vision for a moment, all he could see was white. Fuck, that was incredible. “I love you,” They said to each other at the exact same time, always on the same page in everything they did. They both smiled at each other, and repeated their quotes again so it felt a bit more genuine, so they could fulling appreciate the words as they left each other’s lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan lay panting underneath him, and Bill knew him well enough that he didn’t have enough strength to move right now, he was so worn out. Stan felt amazing, it was all coming back to him, the sense of power, the sense of strength. He would never let this feeling slip through his fingers again, he promised himself that. He felt so strong, but tired as he caught his breath, still tightly holding onto his boyfriends hand as he regained himself. Bill used what strength he could muster, and flipped them over, so they could both lay down. Stan rested his head against Bill’s chest, listening to the beats of his heart. Bill ran his fingers absently through his hair that had been messed up and sweaty now, toying with the curls that were soft as silk underneath his shaky hands. Stan felt so at peace, he felt the closest to normal he had felt in a long time. With Bill, everything felt so good, he regained a strong sense that everything could he good again. As long as Bill’s hand played with his hair, and he still looked at him so adoringly, he knew he still had a piece of heaven to hold onto. He couldn’t be so terrible if Bill looked at him that way, if Bill loved him, he was still good. Goodness lay in the warmth of Bill’s embrace, and divinity dwelled in the air that surrounded them. Stan praised through pants and strained breath, “Heaven feels.. so real with you, Bill,” Bill made him feel good again, he didn’t feel evil. He knew Bill wouldn’t know the full extent of what he meant behind his compliments, and he hoped that he never would; but still, it needed to be said. He needed Bill to know how important he was for him. In his presence, he felt in touch with his humanity that he now wrestled with. There was something about what he said that struck Bill. Wether it be the tone in which he said it, the warm sincerity he wanted to bask in like rays of light from the sun. Or wether it be the the way he looked at him when he said it, eyes half lidded, skin flushed- looking as beautiful as he ever had. Or maybe it was because he knew how much he struggled with feeling good because of his intrusive thoughts, or maybe it was because Bill himself often felt so evil because of his own- so it felt good to make someone else feel good. Bill didn’t know; but if he was old enough to gamble, he’d bet that it was a combination of all of the above. Bill became so overwhelmed, and he couldn’t help but tear up a bit- he was just so in love. He had never loved someone with such intensity, it scared him a bit sometimes. But he knew he had nothing to be afraid of. Stan straightened up a bit, and traced patterns aimlessly, smiling as he did so, “You know that stupid song that came out when we were in like.. the 9th grade... by Belinda Carlisle.. I think,” He spoke softly, and Bill thought for a moment, and nodded, “Yah, I think I remember that song. It played at all those stupid school dances I was too nervous to ask you to...” and Stan laughed. “It always made me think of you...” Stan admitted, looking down at Bill, and reminiscing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> They had come such a long way since 9th grade, he would’ve never believed he would be lucky enough to be there with Bill in that moment, “Really?” Bill asked, it always amazed him that Stan liked him back, and had liked him back for so long, it still didn’t register most of the time. He didn’t even believe him when he had told him that Stan had had a crush on him for longer than he had one on him- it was way too good to be true. Finally having Stan felt like a dream, and some days he quite honestly expected to wake up. “Of course I did, and it makes me think of you even more, now.” Bill blushed adorably, and Stan couldn’t help but look at him with love struck awe, as if this was news to him. “Heaven is a place on earth. They say in heaven, love comes first. We'll make heaven a place on earth. Ooh, heaven is a place on earth,” He quietly hummed to him, punctuating his sentences with brisk kisses to his lips. “And I know that that song isn’t just full of shit- you make heaven a place on earth, Bill,” He giggled, and Bill was still just so overcome with emotion he had no idea what to say, he was just so happy. He was sure his expression was speaking for him, and Stan could read him like a book regardless on if he said anything at all. Stan continued, he loved to see Bill happy, he wished he could feel this loved and this at peace all the time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When you walk into the room, You pull me close and we start to move. And we're spinning with the stars above...” He pointed to the skylight that showed the night sky that was decorated with beautiful above them, “And you lift me up in a wave of love” He paused, and Bill buried his face in the crook of his neck to hide his blush, and his grin. He kissed his neck softly, the salt of the sweat that lay on his skin on his lips. Stan felt him smile against his skin, and felt the head of his blush and his warm breath there as well. Everything felt good, Bill made him hope that everything could be okay, and that things could soon be normal again. Or, at the very least, he would find comfort in things if this turned into their new normal. Things were quiet for a bit, the only thing that was very audible was their breathing, and the way Bill’s lips sounded against his neck, until Bill broke the silence. He kissed up his neck slowly, making his way to his ear, taking his lob between his teeth for a moment before speaking, “Heaven is a place on earth. They say in heaven love comes first. We'll make heaven a place on earth. Ooh, heaven is a place on earth,” He whispered even quietly than Stan had, but he could hear him clear as day- or rather, clear as night, now. His kisses quickly turned to soft bites at his skin, sucking lovebites a little bit higher on his skin than he probably should have. Stan didn’t care, that was future Stan’s problem, for now- it felt so right. As cliche and cheesy as it all was. But cliche looked good on them. “I really do love you,” Stan said, before he went quiet for a while. He had said all he needed to say, and wanted the moment to stay as it was. He felt Bill smile as he continued to kiss him, and he hoped he’d never, ever stop. “I love you more, princess,” and he smiled internally when he felt Stan shudder at the term of endearment he loved so much. And that was the the story of how Heaven Is a Place on Earth became their song. Little did Bill know, a succubus sang him that song that night. And Stan hoped that he wouldn’t care, even if he did know it. He wanted to tell him, but tonight wasn’t the right time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i wanted to give the boy stan kills a name, but couldn’t think of one, bonus points if you know what other king book i got the name from ;p</p>
<p>comments are v much appreciated, i hope you’re enjoying the story so far &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. ch. 3 𖤐 i can see clearly now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>with more and more disappearances, the gang is wondering wether pennywise has come back. however, ben checked out some books and thinks, maybe that this isn’t such a coincidence, maybe something’s wrong with stan. </p>
<p>sex is a coping mechanism... right?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>reddie gets their own chapter :). i’m not one of those lying bitches who just tag ships to spam! when i tag a ship in my story, they are in my mf story!!</p>
<p>ppl love to flood the stenbrough tag w/ irrelevant fics so i would never do that w/ the reddie one</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">❝</span><span class="s2">𝐈</span> <span class="s2">𝐜𝐚𝐧</span> <span class="s2">𝐬𝐞𝐞</span> <span class="s2">𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲</span> <span class="s2">𝐧𝐨𝐰</span><span class="s1">, </span><span class="s2">𝐭𝐡𝐞</span> <span class="s2">𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧</span> <span class="s2">𝐢𝐬</span> <span class="s2">𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞</span><span class="s1">,</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2">𝐈</span> <span class="s2">𝐜𝐚𝐧</span> <span class="s2">𝐬𝐞𝐞</span> <span class="s2">𝐚𝐥𝐥</span> <span class="s2">𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬</span> <span class="s2">𝐢𝐧</span> <span class="s2">𝐦𝐲</span> <span class="s2">𝐰𝐚𝐲</span><span class="s1">❞</span></p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2">𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒</span> <span class="s2">𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄</span> <span class="s2">𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑</span> <span class="s2">𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇</span><span class="s1">: </span><span class="s2">𝟑𝟔</span></p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">It had been an odd couple of days in Derry in general, but especially odd inside the walls of Derry High School. Not a good kind of odd, or even a sort off odd that you could get used to. It was awful, it was awkward, it was on everyone’s mind. Even if you didn’t know someone, you knew what they were thinking about. The atmosphere had a toxicity to it, nobody wanted to be at school unless they absolutely had to be. All 4 out of 5 of the recently murdered and missing boys were current students of Derry High School, and their spirits seemed to never leave. There was a dark cloud looming over the heads of everyone who went there, the reminder of death was inescapable. There were memorials for the missing and murdered were in seemingly every classroom, posters and pictures of the victims were on every wall, and reminders of the newly instilled curfew were hanging on every entrance and exit of the building. You started your day thinking about the missing, and you ended the day thinking about them too. If you didn’t know a victim personally, your friend did. It was such a tight knit, small town- everyone knew everyone, and a tragedy had a ripple effect in a town such as Derry. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Oddly enough, though, much like the Pennywise attacks- news coverage of these new attacks never left Derry. Which was odd, but expected. Nobody cared about Derry quite frankly, not even the people in Derry cared about Derry. It was a town that was never talked about, even within its on state or in its neighbouring towns. It was an unknown town, but once you knew it, you wish you could forget. Something was seemingly always going wrong there. Trauma followed this group from the time that they were little kids, and grew up right along with them. The boys of group had just came from an assembly talking about how to avoid being a victim. Because it had only been male victims, the girls weren’t called out of class. There had been many different assemblies, but none of them differed from the other. “Same shit different day,” as Richie would describe them. It was always most of the stuff you’d expect to hear; walk in pairs, don’t stay out late, don’t get into cars with people you don’t know. And one of these assemblies was in progress right now, and all the boys were called down from their 2nd period classes and told to go down to the auditorium. The lunch bell soon rang, and Beverley meandered down to the auditorium, where she waited for her friends to be finished with the assembly. Being friends with only boys had its drawbacks in that moment. She sat with her back against the lockers, picking at the holes of her fishnet tights until a few minutes later, the assembly concluded and she found her friends in the crowd of boys that were happy to be out of the small, cramped auditorium. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey guys,” She spoke softly, waving to them and jumping up a bit so they could see her, she was quite short by comparison so it was easy for her to get lost amongst a crowd in a packed hallway. They all mumbled their hi’s and hello’s as they joined her. “What was today’s all about?” She asked, but was very thankful she had to ask, she did not envy them at all. Richie sighed, exasperated. He looked like he really wanted to rant about this, so he spoke up before the others could get the chance to. “Because one of the bodies was found half gone with his guts all hangin out...” Richie spoke in his usual less than eloquent fashion, making both Bill and Eddie look like they were about to vomit, “They focused so much on the cars. ‘Don’t get into cars with people you don’t know’, ‘Don’t pick up people you don’t know’, ‘Don’t drive down the roads at night’... it’s like. It isn’t 1970 anymore... people don’t even hitchhike. It was a complete waste of time,” He ranted, and the other boys nodded in agreement with his frustrations. “Yah... plus, from what I heard... one of the guys.. Peter something- he was eaten whole. Nothing was left of him, not even any of his clothes. So, what’s hitch hiking safety gonna do if you’re in his situation-“ Mike continued gravely, he spoke as if he wasn’t speaking in hypothetical, he was scared- he really wanted to know. A small part of him was genuinely scared even though he and his friends had faced much worse before at a much younger age; a small part of him wanted to be reassured. And no one even had an answer for him, they all just silently hoped that they would never, ever find out. They all had a look off worry that resides on their face permanently now, everyone at school for the most part did. Stan Uris, however, did not. As most of life in that high school seemed to fade to black; Stan illuminated in full colour. He seemed so desensitized to it, he seemed to glow despite the circumstances. He never looked better, and his friends all thought that this was an odd time to change his skin care routine- or whatever the hell he was doing to look like that. He had a vivacious effervescence to him now, and you felt a sort of quality his friends had never felt in his presence before. They felt a weird sense of attraction to him. It was never something they would act on, or even bring up to the others. It was akin to how a siren could enchant a sailor enough to crash a boat; they were mesmerized by him in a way they were never before. And they could tell that other people had started to feel that way too. It all seemed... like a strange coincidence that all of this was happening at the same time, but his friends tried their hardest to not pay it any mind. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m just glad I don’t have to go...” Bev said, changing the subject to a more lighthearted aspect of the assembly. “Yah yah yah, fuck you dude. I wanna be a girl, then we wouldn’t have to be going to these...” Richie interjected, and Bev huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Fuck you right back- now you guys know what it’s like to go to the assemblies us girls have to go to whenever there’s a predator on the loose. How to avoid getting harassed and stuff...” She argued, and Richie rolled his eyes, “You hang out with gays anyways, you have no objectification to worry about, it’s not like you even need to go to those presentations anyways. Poor Benny here hasn’t hung out with a straight person all of high school,” He said, grabbing Ben’s shoulders and pulling him in front of him, and they laughed at that remark, especially Ben- because it was so true, “So it’s not like you’re gonna get harassed- skip going to those assemblies if you hate them so much...” Richie mused, “Take your own advice, Tozier. Going to them beats being stuck in math class.” She spoke, and Richie nodded, </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> “My point exactly,” and just before anyone could interject and point out how that wasn’t even remotely close to his point, Richie spoke again. He pulled out the half empty package of cigarettes from the chest pocket of his floral hawaiian shirt and shook it in the air, “Gotta go guys, duty calls.” He explained, referring to his daily smoke breaks he took during lunch. Sometimes Bill would go with him, but not today it seemed. They’d gotten in enough trouble already to know smoking in the boys bathroom was an unsafe bet, so usually they went by the trees, or where they parked their cars. “Save me a seat in the cafeteria as always, yah?” And they nodded that they would. Richie pulled Eddie by the waist, and looked to his left, and to his right, then to his left again to make sure the hallway was clear. He affirmed that no one else was there besides his friends, and kissed his boyfriend Eddie on the lips harshly, tasting him fully for all the time his lungs would allow. He released his waist and pulled away from him, and Eddie stumbled to keep his footing as he was now lightheaded and flustered. He smiled fondly before turning around, and Richie walked away without saying another word. “What was that all about, you guys parted like you were on the way off to war or some shit,” Bill asked, and Eddie laughed, “One last kiss for the rest of the day, I can’t kiss him until he brushes his teeth again, or else he’ll taste like an ash tray.” Eddie answered, the rest of them paused for a moment to think about wether he really did taste like an ashtray, or wether that was Eddie over exaggerating. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stanley however, nodded like he had made perfect sense. Eddie’s hypochondria and Stanley’s OCD sometimes found common ground and overlapped, they agreed on many things such as this, often being the only ones to take each other’s sides on these types of things. “Exactly, and plus- you don’t want to get any second hand smoke-“ Stan agreed; and they carried on talking like this, as if they were the only normal ones. Stan shot a look at Bill as they continued, Bill just scoffed, both he and Richie were ever amused by how their smoking got on their boyfriend’s nerves. “Thank you, Stan! Finally, someone understands what the hell I’m talking about,” Eddie exclaimed, agreeing with his friend happily. When Stan opened his mouth to speak, he couldn’t help but notice his teeth seemed a bit... pointier than usual. They had the appearance of being sharp, like you could prick your finger just by touching them. He wasn’t a dentist, but he could tell that those weren’t normal teeth. But like most new things about Stan, he tried to push them to the back of his mind. Bill smiled to himself while overhearing their little conversation, before taking his hand in his now that the group was alone. He pulled him away from his conversation so that they could go to both of their lockers and put their books away. The rest of the group eventually splitting up as well, to get their lunches and their lunch money, and headed down to the cafeteria. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">They didn’t always eat there now at this point in their lives. Now that most of them had their licenses and Bill, Richie and Mike had cars, they didn’t need to be stuck there, trapped as they had been for most of their years of high school. But sometimes they liked to sit there for nostalgias sake, sitting in the same seats their names had been carved in since 9th grade, first semester. 9th grade... it felt like them against the world back in those days, and strangely enough, it still did. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie joined the group again, the losers turning around as they heard the familiar sound of converse shoes with barely any rubber at the bottom tap against the linoleum floor as he walked towards them. They hung around with each other so much they even know how their steps sounded. They didn’t know wether that was endearing, or wether or not they had to branch out to expand their friend group. Stan was nuzzling into Bill’s neck, and Bill wasn’t paying it much mind, he was smiling at the contact, though. He was fumbling with the package on his medication, Topamax or something- Richie could remember him telling him what it was. He had to take it once with every meal, he had remembered him saying it was a drug that was usually used to treat people with epilepsy, that it was an anticonvulsant or something. “But you don’t have any epilepsy, Big Bill, so what gives?” He remembered himself asking, and Bill laughed, “I don’t. They can also be used as a m-mood stabilizer though. They don’t do everything, they aren’t like- a quick fix for th-things. But, they help.” He could remember Bill responding with something similar, and he remembered as well making some sort of joke that he should take a voice stabilizer to get rid of that stutter. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> But Bill had thick skin, anyone else would’ve been deeply offended and stormed off, but Bill just laughed really loud- that’s what made them such good friends. Richie could remember asking Bill if he could try one of his pills to, just to see what would happen. And obviously, he didn’t let him do that. It was odd the things he could remember, after nearly a decade of friend ship- it was the most insignificant conversions that stuck out the strongest. They were the most tangible memories he had of his friends, besides all of the stuff that happened in the sewers, obviously. Bill finally got it open, and swallowed it with water as he continued to eat, or rather, tried to eat. He kind of just pushed the lettuce in his tupperware around, trying to bring himself to eat. Trying to bring himself to do anything besides worry. Stan, still had his face buried in the crook of his neck. That was something they all seemed to notice, who would’ve known in such troubling times Stan would still be affectionate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> To put it bluntly, Stanley was using all of his willpower to not unzip the fly of Bill’s jeans and jerk him off right then and there; he wanted him so badly all the time. He seemed to be so touch starved lately, and no one, not even Bill knew why. It was as if he needed to be touched 24/7, not that Bill minded, though. He liked feeling wanted and needed, and if Stan wanted to be clingy that would be fine by him. Richie came to his regular seat next to Eddie, and threw an arm around his shoulders on reflex, and Eddie shifted into his touch. He smiled as Richie kissed his forehead, and said his ‘hi’s to everyone else. “I bought you this, so your breath smells like strawberries and not cancer,” Eddie said, in the romantically harsh way only Eddie could speak. He gave him the bottle of strawberry milk he had gotten him from the vending machine just outside the cafeteria and Richie smiled wide at the gesture, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Strawberry milk was his favourite, and it was sweet that he’d remembered. He felt honoured that he was the person lucky enough to have Eddie Kaspbrak remembered small details about. He loved Eddie so much, he really, really did. He kissed him quickly, and said his thank you as he took it, his arm around him tightening affectionately. He looked over at Stan and Bill sitting across from him, “Don’t do that, you’ll get hate crimed... hold your hands discretely under the table so no one notices, like every other gay couple at this school.” He interjected, not that that stopped them though, Eddie smiled, “We’re the only other gay couple Richie”. And Richie thought for a moment before answering, “No, I think two of the freshmen are lesbians- not too sure though, I’m not really too good at reading girls, with my condition and all-“ which made the rest of the group laugh a bit too, and the rest of them didn’t feel like such 5th, 6th and 7th wheels anymore. Stan finally looked over at them, smiling a bit too, “Oh shut up- if we hold hands Bill can’t eat his salad,” He retorted playfully, he sat on Bill’s left side, and had ever since the first day of high school. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Who would’ve known that the seats they chose all those years ago would become permanent. He sat on his left, and Bill was left handed. “Well then move seats” Richie suggested flatly, “...or don’t eat salad” Mike continued, and they first bumped from across the table. Bev sighed, “Oh shut up, both of you. I think it’s cute that they can be so affectionate at a time like this,” Smiling at Stan as she spoke, who appreciated it. Riche sighed dramatically, clutching at his heart through his Nine Inch Nails shirt with rips he had done himself, “Sorry i’m so emotional, I guess it’s just my sensitive side showing through,” He spoke dramatically, “Richie Tozier. In the nearly 10 years I’ve known you, I have known you as being many things, can’t say being sensitive is one of them,” Ben snickered, “Yowza! Haystack Hanscom gets off with a good one! Sorry I cant be so happy at a time like this. One of those guys that died was in my home room class so that’s kinda fucking depressing” Richie said. “Move on dot org, Richie! It’s over. Life’s too short to be moping over some white-trash butchering.” They all grimaced, except Bill. For the past few days he wasn’t mentally there, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility he hadn’t even heard them. He just kept eating, practicing his breath excises his therapist had told him to do in the event where he felt anxious. He was trying his best to not shut down entirely at the recent events, he wasn’t sure he could handle another murderer on the loose in his town. “That’s sweet, Stan.” Richie said sarcastically, fumbling with his bottle of strawberry milk, trying to get it open. “I tell it like it is. Besides! You should be happy for me. I’m having the best day since, like, your bible said Jesus invented the calendar.” Stan interjected, taking a compact mirror from his pocket to look at his reflection, and to make sure his curls hadn’t fallen flat throughout the day. “You look gay as fuck holding that mirror,” Richie chirped, finally getting his drink open. “I am gay as fuck. And so are you. And so is everyone at this table- except Ben, of course,” He joked back, easing some of the tension at the table. “Ally of the year, Ben! Truly,” Richie smiled, but Ben smiled the biggest. He liked that he could be an ally for his friends, and he didn’t mind being the odd one out in their friend group- cus he knew that that was reversed in most other situations in life for his friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Rather than humour what Stan had said, Eddie responded to the ladder of his statement, “Jesus didn’t invent the calendar.” Eddie was about 99% sure he was right. Stan rolled his eyes, “Well shit man, I don’t know. I’ve never read the bible before-“ He replied, “Yah, and why do you care so much wether it’s white trash or not, Stan The Man. You’re white too,” Richie pointed out, “Plus, you’re friends with Bev and shes white trash so what’s it to ya,” Richie looked at Bev as he made himself laugh, she herself did not find his joke too funny. “No, not all jewish people are white. Ashkenazi jewish people aren’t white I don’t think,” Mike mused as he ate, and Richie nodded as he considered what he was saying, “What kinda jew are you, Stan? Are you the kind Mikey’s talking about??” And Stan rolled his eyes and stayed silent, he wasn’t going to entertain this anymore. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Ben changed the subject, voicing a thought that everyone else was too scared to voice. It was a question each one of them had posed within the confines of their thoughts, but never daring to speak it. Because speaking it, made it all the more real. It could come alive that way. “Do you think... it could be pennywise?? You know.. who’s doing all of this?” His voice trailed off as he tried to read the expressions of his friends. They all looked scared, but nobody’s reaction held a candle to the way Bill reacted. No one wanted to avoid this more than he did. His blue eyes went as wide as saucers, and he looked more alert than he had all lunch hour. He dropped his fork into his salad at the word ‘pennywise’ being spoken again. He hadn’t heard that word in so long. He wanted to fade into the background of his thoughts, and he thought begging his friends to never speak it aloud would accomplish that. But, it didn’t. It helped, but it didn’t. Much like his medication, it wasn’t a quick fix, but it did help. Stan grabbed one of his hands to try to comfort him, but Bill didn’t know it- he lost all feeling in his hands. He had hoped that the thought of pennywise being behind all of this had just been him being paranoid- but it all felt too real now that he had heard his friend voice that same concern. His heart began to race, and his chest hurt too. A sense of impending doom washed over him like a crashing wave of a monsoon. “D-do y-you r-really th-think th-th-that, he c-c-c-could be... th-the one duh-duh-duh-duh-doing this?” His voice shakily asked, and Stan’s heart shattered. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He hadn’t heard him stutter that badly since they were 12 years old, his stutter had been nearly been gotten rid of- but all of that progress and all of those hours of speech therapy had gone out the window when he was scared. It pained Stanley so deeply to be the cause of his pain- he wanted more than anything for Bill to believe him when he said that Pennywise was not back. Because he knew for sure it wasn’t him committing these attacks- because it was him! He hated seeing Bill like this. He knew Bill wasn’t doing well with all of these murders and disappearances in the news, but he didn’t know it had festered to this point, to this extreme. “It isn’t him...” Stan spoke, with a bit too much surety, so he continued, “At least I don’t think so,” He added, and that eased Bill a bit, but not by much, not as much as Stan wanted it to, at least. Richie and Eddie shared a look of suspicion at Stan’s comment, a look no one else saw. How could he know with such surety... it was odd. On one hand, maybe it was Stan just saying whatever he needed to to calm his boyfriend down. But on the other, they both knew damn well Stan was no liar. He wouldn’t just say things to smooth things over, or because Bill needed to hear them- so why would he say something like that in such a way? They would discuss later. “Y-yah, i-i-if, St-St-St-St-St-“ “Stan.” Bev said for him, wanting to put him out of his misery and speak for him, “Stan, s-says so, I ah-ah-agree w-w-with h-h-him,” He said, holding onto his hand like his life depended on it, and for a moment Stan thought his wrist was going to break. Bill tried to add to the rest of the conversation; but his sentences were so stuttered and choppy they were frankly incomprehensible, he couldn’t even make out what he himself was trying to say, so he just went quiet. They couldn’t remember his stutter being so bad before, ever. He tried to recall his breathing exercises his therapist had told him to do in the event of a panic attack with Stan’s help to recall them- but he couldn’t do them. This was all so overwhelming, he couldn’t listen to them talk about this anymore. He needed to say his piece, and have this all be over and done with. He’d rather listen to Richie do british voices for an hour- no, he’d rather listen to Richie do ANY of his voices for all of eternity than listen to this continue. His eyes went nearly as wide as his mouth (so wide, they could’ve been the oceans they resembled) when he blurted out, “Je ne pense pas que Pennywise les ait tués. Il a attaqué des enfants et peu importait qu'ils soient garçons ou filles. Le meurtrier n'attaque que des garçons adolescents. Mais peut-être que je me mens. Je ne suis pas prêt à en parler....” He spoke so quickly that even if you spoke french you could barely understand him, taking a big breath of air as he spoke, and that was the last thing he said to any of them all lunch. They all looked at him with such concern, Bill felt crushed by it- like the walls were closing in around him or something. He gasped for another breath but he couldn’t- if his mouth was going to fail on him, he just wished his lungs would cooperate. “I don’t speak baguette, Billiam, what are you trying to say?” Richie asked, not in his usual jokey tone though. With shaky hands, he grabbed a napkin and the pen Stanley handed to him, and with even shakier hands, wrote out what he was trying to say. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He wrote messily, and gave it to Stan to read to them, his left hand immediately clamping back down on Stan’s as soon as his pen hit the table. “I don't think Pennywise killed them. He attacked children and it didn't matter whether they were boys or girls. This murderer attacks only adolescent boys. But maybe I'm just lying to myself. I'm not ready to talk about this..” and the rest of the group mused apologies, and felt terribly for bringing it up. No one felt more terribly than Mike did, he wanted so badly to help him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. And no one felt more guilt than Stanley did, he felt awful to be the cause of his pain. But, that only gave him even further incentive to never, ever get caught. If Bill ever found out about this, it would destroy him. But, if Bill found out it wasn’t pennywise... maybe that would make him feel better. But he probably wouldn’t even believe him even if he did confess to him- ahhh! Stan felt that he was going to explode too, he wasn’t ready to talk about this either. Bill’s saving grace came in the form of a ringing bell. It rang just as Stan had finished reading his note, he was so happy to be out of there; out of that conversation. Bill took the napkin back, and crumpled it into a ball and put it in his hoodie pocket, so no one would else would find it. They all split up to go to their lockers in time to reach their classes, the last thing he heard his friends say was Mike complaining about how far away his next class was. Bill couldn’t help but think of how far away peace was, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was drowning in chaos. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie followed Eddie to his locker, and they talked about what just happened. “I hate seeing Bill so upset like that.. it breaks my heart.” Eddie spoke woefully as he searched his locker for his textbooks for his next two classes. “Yah, I know right? This is really working him up. I mean, all Ben did was ask if we thought it could be Pennywise and he had a fuckin’ breakdown,” Richie added, watching Eddie finally find what he was looking for, shut his locker and walk away slowly, waiting for Richie to follow him. As they walked Richie couldn’t help but look at the other couples that walked through the halls together, and he hated them. He was so jealous of what they could do. They could hold each other’s hands, they could kiss each other’s cheeks as they parted from each other, all things Richie couldn’t do because it could risk them. It could risk stares that he knew Eddie hated, it could risk Eddie’s mom finding out about them somehow (because, if any parent could find out- it would be her), and Richie longed for a time that they could be free to be themselves more than anything. He hated not being able to hold his hand, especially. It hurt to not be touching him, as cliche as that was. He just wasn’t as weird about it as Stan was, but he was just as needy. He just didn’t show it the way bottoms did. There was one thing he could do in a crowded hallway, though, he could carry Eddie’s books for him to his classes, which he liked to do very much. He liked to be a good boyfriend, it was something he was very proud of being. He considered himself the luckiest guy in the whole world to be able to call his Eddie, his. So he liked to show how lucky he was as often as he could. Eddie beamed up at him as he took them, giggling to himself, “Thank you,” He said emphatically, “Of course, darlin,” He mused sweetly, it was odd to hear Richie be so sweet and charming- usually he was so offensive and crass. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> But it was the good kind of odd, he loved to see him like this. But, he loved both sides of his personality; it was the offensive comments and crass remarks that he fell in love with, after all. Eddie continued with their train of thought as they walked to Richie’s locker. Richie trailed behind him slowly, as he was in no hurry because he didn’t particularly care for school, but Eddie did quite a bit, so he was walking as quickly as he could while still trying to keep up with him. “I don’t think pennywise is doing this,” He spoke gravely, hoping Richie would understand what he was trying to say without having to say it. He didn’t want to accuse his best friend of doing something so horrible, but he wasn’t accusing Stan of doing such horrible things. He was accusing whatever happened to Stan of doing such horrible things, because something had to have happened to him that night, he was sure of it. They were all sure of it, except Bill, who still had no idea. Everyone else was sure of it, though, they just all played coy and pretended that this wasn’t really happening. But, Eddie could be vulnerable and real with Richie, more so than he could be with anyone else. Richie nodded, he knew what he was trying to elude to, and understood why he didn’t want to say it. He probably didn’t want to sound crazy, because this whole sequence of events was pretty unfathomable to say the very least. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they sacrifice Stan to satan as a joke... and then all of this stuff starts happening. They had been through more than people realized, they could sense things like that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie said, “He hadn’t exactly been... the most... kind person in the world regarding all of the disappearances, and all of the assemblies we’ve had to go to,” unwilling to even say his name in such a context. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about his friend that way, even if he had a point- it just felt so wrong. Despite all of this, Stan was genuinely one of the kindest people he knew- they could even argue he was the kindest out of the losers. Hell, he nursed wounded birds back to health in his spare time. He was also so soft spoken and kind, this was so new for him. They’d never seen him act in such a way. Richie nodded again as they got to his locker, he unlocked it, and rummaged through his disorganized mess of a locker before finding everything he needed to find. Eddie wondered to himself how he even functioned in something so messy, but that was a conversion for a much more lighthearted day. “Yah, I mean, I joke about not wanting to go to the presentations the cops do but.. Stan is next level, man. Like, I didn’t want to say anything... but I caught him laughing during parts of it.” Richie added, “Yes! I saw that too- I thought I was the only one. I tried to tell myself I imagined it or something. When they were showing us the photos of the bodies... I saw Stan lick his lips out of the corner of my eye... I mean.. what the fuck...” Eddie continued, “Its a wonder Bill doesn’t notice all of this,” He spoke much sadder, his voice going from disgust to pity. Richie frowned, “Well, you know how the kid sees him. Stan could probably actually commit murder in front of him and he wouldn’t change his opinion of him, he’d idealized him to no end. Which, would be fine under any other circumstances. Usually Stan is such a sweet guy- but.. this is so unlike him. And you can’t blame him for not even noticing anything all together, the guy is so spaced out all the time because of this...” He spoke solemnly, just talking about this gave him the creeps and made him indescribably sad- and overcame him worry about his best friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Everything else about Stan was normal, he just had his moments, like the outburst at lunch, that had a lasting effect. It made him worry. “Well, whatever the hell is going on... the gang is really starting to get nervous about this, we should research this.. give them some answers” Eddie mused, turning to look at Richie now, leaning his side against the lockers, rather than his back when he was looking at the wall. Talking about this made him a bit too uncomfortable to look into Richie’s deep brown eyes that were only magnified by the big glasses he always wore. Richie smiled, genuinely, the way only Eddie could make him smile. It was the happiest he had been all day. The tension had been the dark cloud hanging over him, and as always, Eddie was his sun. “Eddie... are you asking me out on a library date?” He asked with faux surprise in his voice. Eddie checked to make sure the coast was clear. “I dunno.. are you saying you’ll go with me?” He asked, getting on his tippy toes to ask his question against Richie’s lips, their noses bumping together ever so slightly. He felt dizzy at the way his boyfriend’s breath lingered against his skin. His tone had a daringly enticing tone to it, and Richie followed suit and matched it. “I’ll I’m saying is.. I’ll pick you up at 8... we can go to the library... then back to my place.. and we can get cozy...” he said. “Pick me up at 7:30... Bye Richie, I have to get to class.. you take way too long,” Eddie joked as he walked away, and Richie could only smile because he knew it was true. He did take a long time; but he was only stalling. Because, the longer he took, the more time he got to spend with Eddie. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">As arranged, Richie arrived promptly at Eddie’s house at 7:29, and rang the doorbell at 7:30. Eddie opened the door, and looked very happy to see him- but for the moment, his mind was elsewhere. Richie felt like he walked in on the tail end of a conversation, “Yes, I will mom- Yes, I did that mom- Mhmm, I wont forget to, mom-“ He answered to his mom who was speaking to him from somewhere in the house, Richie couldn’t exactly hear what she was saying- he could only hear mumblings through the door way. Eddie absentmindedly put his shoes on, and threw his overnight bag to Richie through the open door. He seemed to be going through a mental checklist in his mind, making sure he had done whatever long list of things his mother had told him to. “Bye mom, Ill see you tomorrow-“ He spoke quickly as he walked out the door, and even more quickly closing it when Richie could hear Eddie’s mother call him back for something. They both looked at each other, and laughed for a minute. They were both used to his mothers actions- so what could you do about it besides laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. Eddie took his backpack back from Richie, and the shimmer of his fresh coat of black nail polish caught his eye as the last remnants of sunlight set in the sky. “My mom says she won’t let me hang out with you anymore you keep doing that to your nails” He mused, almost laughing to himself, watching Richie open the trunk of his car so Eddie could put his stuff there. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> They were having a ‘totally platonic best friends sleep over’ at Richie’s house that night after they went to the library to ‘study for anthropology’- ironically, an excuse that would be convincing if either of them took that class- their parents were less than interested to fact check it though, so it worked. “Well, we do a lot more than just hang out...” Richie smirked, as he closed the trunk with a loud thud, that kind of made Eddie jump even though he knew the source of the sudden loud noise. Eddie had always been easily startled, he was like a cat in that sort of way- Richie had always found it quite cute. Eddie walked over to the unlocked passenger side door, “Oh hush, you know what I mean,” Eddie spoke as he waited for Richie to close it behind him, as he always did. And he did, closing it with a loud thud that made Eddie jump a bit in his seat, again. Perhaps he was a bit more on edge than he usually was because of the subject matter in which they were going to research that night, or it was because his best friend could be possessed by satan. Who really could say? Eddie could- and it was the latter.
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1">Richie laughed as he got in the drivers side, and closing the door behind him. He did make a note to not slam the door so harshly anymore, “She doesn’t like them?” And Eddie smiled for a moment, and had a confidence in his tone as he replied,“No, but I do”. He really did, he liked that their aesthetics were so different from each other’s. The only colour Richie ever wore was on his obnoxiously bright hawaiian shirts, and the only black Eddie ever wore was when he wore one of Richie’s hoodies. He did have to admit, his colours were a lot more muted, and dare he say, more tasteful (which, he dared to say quite often) than the colours Richie wore. They were a perfect match in everything they did, because they were do different. They were quiet for a moment, before Eddie turned to him and asked, “So you don’t care if my mom doesn’t like you?” he was interested in hearing the answer. His whole life, he’d been raised with the expectation that he’d be the one being shown to parents, that he’d one day grow up, date a girl, and have to ask her fathers permission to marry her. But, as he grew up, he learned that he wasn’t meant to follow in the path of heteronormative cliche his life had intended to be. Richie was the one who’d have to ask permission from </span> <span class="s3">his </span> <span class="s1">father to marry him- except, his father was dead- so he was left to deal with seeking the approval of a bitter hypochondriac housewife instead. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Living in a cliche wasn’t what he was meant to do, but he supposed it would be a lot easier than what his life was turning out to be. “Well, that’s a difficult one Eddie Spaghetti. On one hand, I do want your mother to like me. But, then, on the other- it’s more complicated. Your mom doesn’t like anyone you hang around with. I mean, shit, sometimes I think she’d like it better if you had no friends and just did decoupage with her all day. Like, she doesn’t want you hanging around me because- I’m me, which you know, understandable. I’m an acquired taste. She doesn’t want you hanging around Stan ‘cause he’s a jew. She doesn’t want you hanging around Bill ‘cause he’s got that stutter that she thinks is contagious. She doesn’t want you hanging around Ben ‘cause she thinks overeating is contagious which- is a bit hypocritical but I digress. She doesn’t want you hanging around Bev ‘cause she thinks she’s a whore- which, pretty rude thing to say about a 17 year old girl but- whatever. And she doesn’t want you hanging around Mike ‘cause she says he works on a farm but we all know it’s ‘cause he’s black. And I think she’s still pissed my dad didn’t give your mom a discount on your braces in the 8th grade... She hates all of the people I love, so, if I’m on the list of people she hates then... I’m in pretty good company.” And he made a very valid point, and agreed. He stayed silent though, he could read his expression and he knew Richie wasn’t done speaking. “and besides, the way I see it is, as long as the most important kaspbrak in my life likes me, who cares about the rest” Richie smiled as he continued, and Eddie couldn’t help but grow fonder at what Richie had said, it was a lot more touching than what he thought he was going to say. “Aww, that’s very sweet”, Eddie cooed as he grinned, his Richie was full of surprises some days. Just as soon as he thought he’d have him all figured out, he’d do or say something that would throw him for a loop. He’d never get tired of being with him, that’s for sure. He supposed his job of learning everything there was to know about Richie would never be over, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “-besides, if she doesn’t like me, it just makes the hate sex we have even better” Nope, same old Richie. Richie laughed hysterically at his own joke- even though the ongoing joke that Richie fucked his mom was something Eddie never did find very funny. Eddie guessed that that touching moment of sentimental sincerity was fleeting. “Oh, shut up Richie-“ Eddie said, but still smiled anyways. ”I fucked your mom” wasn’t their love language, their love language was nonverbal. It was the way Richie looked at Eddie, and the way Eddie shared the same look back. It was the way their hands fit perfectly together. It was the way they could be completely and totally themselves around each other, opening up and being vulnerable in a way they wouldn’t allow themselves to be around anyone else. He tolerated the mom jokes, because he loved him so much. And because they were sort of funny- when they were about Stan and Bill’s moms.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Sometimes I do worry, if she doesn’t even like me as your friend... whats she gonna say when she finds out we’re dating.” And that thought alone made Eddie’s stomach turn. He had pushed the thought of coming out so far to the back of his mind at that point; he never wanted to deal with that... ever. “I didn’t know you thought about stuff like that,” Eddie said, he was impressed. He didn’t think he worried about things like that, he was always such a happy, goofy person. That was a comfort Eddie relied on heavily; he was the worrier, and Richie was the one who held his hand and guided him through his worries. Or more accurately, helped him forget about them- and he wouldn’t have it any other well. Richie smiled, “Of course I do, but I mean... like I don’t think she’ll take it super well or anything, but... I don’t think she’ll completely disown you for that.” Eddie looked at him intensely, listening to his words and finding reassurance in them. “Cus like, she’s got munchausen by proxy pretty bad. And you can’t have munchausen by proxy without having anyone to be by proxy. Ya know what I mean?- Nah, just kidding, cus she loves you and stuff. Like, she’ll be mad but, she’ll still come to our wedding, I think.” Richie spoke seriously, and Eddie felt blush come to his cheeks, “You think were gonna like... get married?” He asked, taking him as seriously as Richie had meant it. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Most of the time, it wasn’t wise to take Richie at his word, because most of the time his word was laced with sarcasm and bad puns. But, it was always a safe bet to take Richie at his word when his word involved his relationship with Eddie. Because, that was one of the only things he took seriously. He thought for a moment at the question, and nodded, a smile tugging on his lips. “Yah. Yah I think so,” He finally said, and he looked over at Eddie who was trying to hide a smile of his own. Richie knew that very few people were lucky enough to meet their soulmates, and he knew even fewer people were lucky enough to meet their soulmates when they were 7. He was pretty sure that Stan and Bill were part of those lucky few; and he knew for a fact that he and Eddie were part of those lucky few. So why the hell would he ever let him go. He knew that he loved Eddie, and he knew that Eddie loved him too. He knew it because they had said it to each other, and he also knew it because of the way he made him feel, and the way happiness came over him when he thought of him. Little things like that made him sure of it. Richie knew he loved Eddie enough to spend the rest of his life with him, if he was ever lucky enough to ask him, and if he was ever lucky enough for Eddie to say yes- and most importantly, if gay marriage ever became legalized in america. He knew he wanted to marry him, and in a way, he’d always sort of known that. Richie went to hold his hand as he finally was backing out of the driveway, and Eddie snaked his hand away so fast, and laughed. “Both hands on the wheel, Tozier… or I’m not going with you,” and he knew Eddie well enough, that that was his way of saying he wanted to marry him, too. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">They sat in silence for a few minutes as Richie drove down the side streets of Derry. Well, not in total silence, they weren’t talking but the radio was playing. And, since Eddie was pretty well versed in his boyfriends music taste, he guessed that Pretty Hate Machine was playing. Not that he particularly cared for any of the music he listened to- Nine Inch Nails was probably the best of the bands he listened to. Eddie turned the car radios off, and Richie turned and looked at him,</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Aww, why’d you do that? I liked that one,” with a fake pout on his face, “Well, I figured we should set a course of action for tonight, who’s gonna research what- eyes on the road not me Richie... over 50% of motor vehicle accidents-” He interrupted his train of thought with his own worried rambles, and Richie adverted his gaze back to the road to shut him up and calm him down. “Yah, but, the song I fucked you to for the first time is coming up next don’t you wanna hear it??” He asked teasingly, catching Eddie blush and look away out of the corner of his eye- that quieted him down more than looking back at the road, he thought. Eddie was the only one of their friends without a license because his mom refused to let him take his drivers test until he was 18; and for the only one without a license, he sure was a stickler for the rules. Fuck, he and Bill drove high, drove drunk, drove with Ben sticking his head out of the window like a dog, drove with Bev hanging onto the roof of the car for dear life while they drove down the highway for a dare, did donuts in Stan’s synagogue’s parking lot after his hebrew lessons- but if you even drove with one hand on the wheel, Eddie would refuse to drive with you. Richie found it annoyingly endearing in the odd sort of way only Eddie could be. “In all seriousness, do tell, whats your plan for when we head to the library. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Which, you’re gonna tell me have to tell me how to get to, by the way. It’s a small town but- I haven’t been to the library since never so... tell me if I’m going the right way.” Eddie scoffed, but nodded in agreement. “Well, I was on the phone with Ben before you picked me up, and he was saying that we should check out the occult section in the library and see what we can find out,” He explained, and Richie looked at him, puzzled, “Our library has an occult section?” and Eddie nodded, “Apparently. I’ve shared some of our suspicions with him, and he agrees that something isn’t right. He wants us to call him if we come to any conclusions tonight. So, lemme use your phone when we get to your place,” And Richie agreed, and they sat in a comfortable silence again when their conversation fizzled out. Both just terrified, pure and simple. They hoped with everything in them that they wouldn’t have to call Ben, and they hoped that they wouldn’t come to any conclusions. They hoped that this would all stop, Stan would stop acting so weird, and that Stan would stop fucking glowing or whatever the fuck he was doing, and that boys would stop going missing or at the very least- not be strung all over town with their intestines ripped out. They just wanted everything to be how it was thirty six fucking days ago. “We’re here, pull over.” Eddie spoke, his voice and hand quivering as he pointed to the parking lot on Richie’s left that they wished they weren’t about to pull into. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">By the time they had gotten to the library, it was 7:45, and it closed at 9. They thought that that would be just enough time, to quickly get the research material they needed, and bring it back to Richie’s house for perhaps the most macabre sleep over they’d ever had. Richie held the door open and closed for Eddie, as he always did. And as they entered, Richie stuck close by Eddie’s side, a bit too close for Eddie’s taste. So close, he was even tripping on Eddie’s shoelaces. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he had never been to the library, so he had no idea where to go or where to look; and was very much relying on Eddie to be his guide. “Why are people staring at us, Eds?” Richie asked, speaking way too loudly for a library. “Maybe it’s because you’re walking 1 inch away from me- or it’s because you look like a hoodlum.” Eddie yell-whispered in a way only Eddie could. Richie laughed, again, much too loud for a library. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> It was cute to see him get so razzled, and it was cute to hear him use words like ‘hoodlum’. Stan and Eddie were the only teenage boys he knew who talked like that- they both dressed and talked like old men. “Really, Eddie? A hoodlum? That’s the best you got?” He laughed, and Eddie looked at him, and put his finger to his lips, and mouthed “We are in a library!!” and Richie nodded and mouthed an, “I’m sorry,”. He may never have been to a library, but he knew that you had to be quiet in them. “I’m sorry for following you so close but- I never been here before... I don’t know where to look for shit,” he apologized, and Eddie looked at him understandably, his scowl changed to a slight smile. “Well... follow me until we get to the section I think we should look in, but, then look for things yourself, okay? We’ll cover more ground that way.” And Richie nodded, and took Eddie’s hand tightly in his as he followed him, watching Eddie skim the little signs on each shelf that said the genre of book, and how they were organized. His search took them to the darkest, dustiest corner of the library, the Occult section. Ben was right, there was an occult section, but there wasn’t much of it. And it didn’t look very popular, judging by all of the cobwebs and dust bunnies that eerily decorated the bookshelves. Richie watched as Eddie rummaged through one of his fannypacks, and looked a bit more at ease when he found his inhaler. “God... dust just makes my asthma so much worse... the things I do for Stan Uris...” He muttered to himself, taking a big puff from his inhaler as he crouched down to look at the books there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Richie thought for a moment, Eddie had had an awakening in his tween years that most of the illnesses he had, and the subsequent medications he took for them were all; ‘placebos’ as Stan would say, or ‘gazebos’ as Eddie could recall him saying. But he still held on so tightly to that inhaler of his, literally and figuratively. He wondered if he genuinely believed that he had it, or if it was more of a comfort thing- like how little kids sucked their thumbs, he sucked on his inhaler as a form of a coping mechanism. But, he was soon pulled out of his thoughts when he realized he had a lot more to worry about than what Eddie was doing. His eyes skimmed the shelves of the books, getting lost in the vast isles of them. And the closer he got, he realized that that dust was no joke- he himself found him coughing a bit more than usual. He got transfixed in the books, and made his way through the isles, that were mostly empty at this time of night. He lost track of where Eddie was, and was taking this a lot seriously. He stumbled across a book that he thought looked the coolest. He forgave himself for not adhering to the old adage of, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”, because when he picked it off of the shelf, it looked promising. It had a faded red cover that he assumed had faded with time. It had “Man and Satan: A complicated Relationship” on the cover, and Richie eyerolled at the title. “Yah, no shit...” he thought. It was old and weathered, and looked like it would fall apart at the slightest touch- so he was careful with it. He gingerly opened the cover, and turned the pages. He looked at the table of contents, and skimmed through it.
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> “Introduction and the Complicated History of Satanism... pg 1”,</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Benefits of the Devil... pg 210”, “Misconceptions about Satan... pg 666”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">,“Different Types of Sacrifice.... pg 1000”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Dangers of Sacrifice: What Can Go Wrong and Why It Does.... pg 1307” He turned right to that page, that was exactly what he needed to look at. He turned to that page, and thought about the page number... 1307... he wondered why that sounded so strangely familiar. He thought for a moment, and felt sick to his stomach when he came to his realization. 13/07... July 13th... That was Stanley’s birthday. “What the fuck. What the actual fuck,” He whispered under his breath, that was too much of a coincidence. He got full body chills, almost like a spirit passed through him, his hands grew shaky. He had no idea how he was still holding the book. He leaned against the bookcase as he read on, he felt like his legs were about to give out. He didn’t know wether he needed a drink of water, a cigarette, some fresh air, or all of the above. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Fuck- what he really needed, was a one way ticket out of Derry, Maine. No, what he really needed, was a time machine. So he could go back to September 14th, and get them all to not play truth or fucking dare. God, what he would do if he could just go back to that day. He’d do everything differently. He wouldn’t have asked Stan that stupid question, and he wouldn’t have asked Eddie that stupid dare, and he wouldn’t have even played truth or dare- fuck, he wouldn’t have even had them over if he knew it was going to turn out like this. He should’ve taken Bill not being allowed to go as a sign from the universe or something. He was the leader of their group- nothing good ever happened when he wasn’t there. He got food poisoning at Bev’s 14th birthday party when Bill couldn’t make it because of speech therapy. Stan stepped on glass that one time they went to the beach in 8th grade when Bill couldn’t make it. One of Mike’s sheep got loose when plans with Bill fell through. Bill held the fabric of their group together- fuck he should’ve taken that as a sign. He hated every day that he was skeptic, or didn’t believe in ghosts or the loch ness monster or satan or luck or chance or bigfoot or fate or whatever the fuck else- because this gave him a reason to believe. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">As much as he knew he didn’t want to, he also knew he had to. He had to read on. He turned to that dreaded page, and forced himself to read it. First, he took in the big, bold heading in old english looking script, “Dangers of Sacrifice: What Can Go Wrong and Why it Does”, he wished he could stop there. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever was under that heading. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him- fuck he needed to stop before this got anymore real.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"> <em>“</em></span> <em> <span class="s3">Sacrifices of all sorts, wether they be human or otherwise, are not for the faint of heart. Wether they were just blood sacrifices, animal sacrifices, or human life sacrifices, they are serious and have real danger to them. Sacrifices should never be attempted by the intoxicated, they require a sober heart and a sober mind to fully process and accept the ramifications of what is about to happen</span> </em> <span class="s1"><em>...”</em> </span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1">Fuck... Richie wish he knew that then.. hindsight really was 20:20. “</span> <em> <span class="s3">There are, of course, many more things that can go wrong if you are dealing with humans rather than the traditional goat or lamb sacrifice. A huge danger when it comes to human sacrifice, wether it be life or just blood, is the fear of creating a succubus. A succubus is what can happen when the sacrificer unknowingly or knowingly sacrifices and offers a virgin to satan. If you offer tainted blood to satan, he will not take kindly on you, the sacrificer, or your sacrificial offering. Always be 100% sure that the blood you are offering to satan is virginal. That is why it is never best to sacrifice a dishonest, or intoxicated person.</span> </em> <span class="s1">” </span></p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Stan wasn’t dishonest, but he was drunk as hell...” Richie thought, getting a bit scared as he read this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <span class="s3"><em>What is a Succubus? Well, dear reader, a succubus is a woman (or in some modern day occurrences, a man) who feeds of the blood, flesh and fear of men. They also feed off of their lust and sexual energy from them, as well. They are very beautiful people, and have a seductive and alluring quality to them. That is how they real their victims in, they seduce them, and then kill them. In some, but not all cases, they do sleep with them fully. In other cases, the succubus can do all of this to their victim, or get the two different energies from two different people. A succubus who still has real world ties and connections, usually this is a succubus who was a great person before being sacrificed, can kill random people- but feed off of their romantic partner sexually, rather than obtaining that fulfilment from a stranger. A succubus exists naturally, or can be created. A succubus is created when someone who is not virginal is sacrificed to Satan; either by blood or by life. They have extreme power. They are extremely alluring, and have a similar quality to a siren in traditional folklore. They also have superhuman strength, enhanced senses, can fly (though for some, this is limited to just levitation), and superhuman speed. They must feed off of their victims to maintain these abilities, or else, their beauty fades, and they eventually will become very weak and die a slow, painful death; eventually turning to brittle ash</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">This was starting to sound like an even more realistic possibility that what he had originally thought, and he hoped to god that would change. Hopefully maybe on the next page it would say, “But don’t worry, Richie Tozier, this is all just a crazy coincidence! You’re fine and didn’t do anything wrong, your best friend just did a face mask and is being a bit of a bitch right now. It’s all good though!” and deluded by desperate hope, he kept reading, actually hoping he would find something like that in there. He turned the page, and found nothing of the sort.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"> “</span> <em> <span class="s3">How do you know that you have created a succubus? Here are some checks to do with yourself and trusted others to determine wether your sacrifice now matches this description. Are they now strangely more affectionate? Are they now suddenly more beautiful and alluring- do they seem to almost glow? Does their beauty seem to gradually fade over time (usually over a period of 2-3 weeks), but comeback just as strongly the next day? Are they insensitive to the problems of others around them? Do they have sharper teeth? Are they routinely cancelling plans out of nowhere? Do they somehow have an enhanced ability, such as sight, smell, taste, speed or strength (or all of the above, or most of the above)? Are men their age or close to their age going missing, and/or ending up dead in their area? If so, you probably have a succubus on your hands. And, it is your fault</span> </em> <span class="s1"><em>!..</em>” </span></p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He slammed the book shut. He couldn’t take this anymore, he needed to show this to Eddie. It was all too real now, he couldn’t read the rest of this alone. The parting words of the paragraph echoed in his head... it really was all his fault. This was all his fault, if only he hadn’t fucking gotten drunk and sacrificed Stan as a joke- god, this was all supposed to be a fucking joke. He had ruined Stan’s life over a stupid joke. His best friend in the whole world wasn’t even human anymore because of him, how could they ever comeback from that? How could he ever fix him? How could he ever make up for this. He owed it to him, to try and save him. Unfortunately for him, this book didn’t offer any of those solutions. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He decided, he was going to try and find Eddie, show him this, and see what he had to say about it. Hell, maybe he was overreacting and overanalyzing- maybe none of that was even happening, and he was just confused. Or something. But, judging by the guilt in his heart and pain in his chest, this was all way too real to be an assumption of his. He wiped away the tears starting to flow from his face, he couldn’t let Eddie see him cry, he had to be the strong one in this. He also wiped his tears away, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to cry. Stan deserved to cry, fuck- he deserved to sob. His life was ruined! Richie couldn’t imagine having to live in the way the book described. He knew that’s how the real Stan didn’t want to live. Stan deserved to live the way the real Stan wanted to, before all of this. Richie also couldn’t help but feel like he deserved some better friends, too. The further he read, the clearer things became. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He walked around the section to try and find Eddie, before finding him at a small wooden table, sat reading with a big pile of books around him. Richie felt a bit silly now, because he only had one. He walked over to him calmly, as if nothing was wrong. Richie pulled up the chair next to him, and sat down quietly. It felt nice to finally be off of his feet, he thought he was going to pass out there for awhile. The closer he got to Eddie, he saw the more chaotic his workspace was. There were books all over the place, with places and sections tabbed with post it notes. He had a notepad out as well, where he feverishly jotted down notes and other things. “Hey Eddie,” Richie whispered in his ear, tapping at his shoulder to get his attention. Eddie looked up from his note, looking a bit dazed and out of it from how hard he was concentrating previously. “Hey, honey, just give me a sec, okay? I’m trying to read this,” And Richie nodded as he understood, he was happy Eddie was taking this so seriously. He was such a kind and good friend, Richie wished he could be more like him in those ways. The more he sat, he couldn’t help but not just stare at Eddie, but admire him too. He couldn’t help but admire him. He adored the way he looked while he was deep in thought, the way he holds a pencil, the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s confused, the way his handwriting was so messy and adorable as he rushed to write his notes while he still had the time to. Richie could watch him all day, but, his mind did start to wander a tiny bit. And soon, his hand wandered with it. He placed a soft, soothing hand on his thigh, and it stay there for awhile. Eddie looked at him, and smiled, liking the small bit of affection, it was calming, but didn’t hinder his focus. Until, it did start to distract him... and made it a bit harder to concentrate. His hand trailed lower down his leg, meandering delicately like the spiders that adorned the webs the books were covered in, finding a home on his knee. His hand lingered for a moment, before swirling a circle over the skin that lay exposed through the rips on his jeans, lazily trailing back up to his hip. His hand strayed from its course of action, snaking it’s way up through the bottom of his sweater for only a moment, teasingly tickling the smooth skin of his stomach. Eddie’s breath hitched, realizing the true intent of his actions, but still, he said nothing. His eyes glazed over as he looked through his book, but clearly was not as interested as he was previously. The pages no longer kept his interest, this was just a ploy to act as if he wasn’t aware of what Richie was doing, staring at his book to pretend he didn’t exist for that moment in time. Richie, however, took that as a challenge. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He traced small circles gently in the fabricof his pants, trailing lower and lower. His hand was fully on his member, and unquestionably on purpose. He rubbed a bit harder, daring Eddie to say something. He pulled back until it was just his finger tips lightly ghosting against the zipper of his pants. “Richie, we’re in public.” He whispered quietly, his eyes still glued on his page he was reading. He didn’t want to give him a glance, fearing that that would encourage him. Richie said nothing, and continued. Eddie’s face quickly grew impatient, but not angry or embarrassed. That was until, he heard a noise disturb the quiet that surrounded them. It was a noise so quiet and discrete, only they were privy to it. Richie nimbly unzipped the zipper of his pants, and slipped his hand into Eddie’s, now exposed, underwear. “Richie, I say again, we are in public.” Eddie mumbled, trying to be assertive but his trembling voice undermined his point. Richie didn’t know why he was so stressed about it. They were so far away from anyone, and they were nearly the only people still here. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Plus, the way the table was angled, no one would be the wiser to what they were doing as long as he could keep quiet. The thrill of possibly getting caught was there, but so unlikely it could be enjoyable. Eddie’s breath hitched and eyes grew wide, his attention was no where else but Richie, even if he wasn’t looking directly at him. Not that he was too focused on his book, anyway, his eyes had been glued to the same page for the last 10 minutes, he wasn’t fooling anyone. He shuddered as Richie’s hand slid against the skin of his member, he wrapped his hand around it, drawing it out and exposing his stiffening shaft to the cool air. “Mhmmmm...” Eddie breathed, head back just a bit, eyelids drooping down as it was getting more difficult to keep them open all the way. Eddie let out another breath, finally meeting Richie’s gaze, asking if he dared to continue. And Richie most certainly did dare. He stroked him quicker now, running a thumb gently over his head, dipping teasingly into his slit. Eddie let out a moan so faint he wondered if it was even real or not. His hand movements were slow, and skilled, as graceful as a spiders legs but probably just as deadly. “Mhm—“ He bit his lip to suppress the moan about to come out, they heard a bit of chatter coming from unseen attendees, but just because he stopped moaning, doesn’t mean Richie was going to stop as well. “Haahhh-“ He hated himself for letting that slip out, but Richie was making him feel so good he couldn’t help it. He quivered and squirmed in his seat, trying to regain some of his cool and his sensibility he knew was still there somewhere. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">His hand was moving much more rapidly now, but you wouldn’t be able to tell if you were an onlooker- which there were none. They were both doing a very good job at hiding their escapades, Eddie just looked mildly antsy in his seat, and Richie looked mildly disinterested in his book. Though, in Eddie’s mind they looked a lot more noticeable. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked teasingly, knowing full well what the answer was. His mewls and pants told a whole other story. “Oh god, please don’t-“ He breathed desperately, tapping his pen to the hardwood table to maintain composer. Hoping it would be a soothing metronome, but they both knew damn well it was like a ticking time bomb, counting down the seconds until Eddie unraveled. Eddie was visibly shaking, now. Richie took note of the tremors that weren’t there before, tremors that shot up his arms, and down his legs. Causing his hands to shake a bit too. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m gonna....” Eddie whispered, scrunching his face as he tried to delay it as long as possible, “What are you gonna do?” Richie asked, an innocent faux-cluelessness to his voice, as if he was asking him how he was going to spend a Saturday. “C. U. M.” He spelled out loud, he didn’t want to say such a word in public. “Well, don’t just spell it out, do it baby,” He whispered. Eddie whined under his breath, trying to be quiet enough so that Richie couldn’t hear it. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing his noises as he finished, but Richie did hear them, and it would be a very long time before he forgot them. Eddie’s body seized up as he released all over Richie’s hand. Richie couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked when he came, even though he tried to hide it- he still was so fucking pretty. They were still totally alone, so Richie kissed his blushing cheek. “You’re so filthy for cumming in public like that...” He whispered in his ear, and Eddie was still on cloud nine so he couldn’t answer, he only whimpered in agreement. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie used his clean hand to fish around in Eddie’s fannypack, now very thankful he still wore these everywhere he went even though the 80s had come and gone. He found a pack of kleenex, and wiped his hand clean, and catching the last sputter of cum from his boyfriend’s cock as he sat there, glaring daggers at him. He was captivated by the quiet, trembling body that sat next to him, eyeing every quiver, savouring every tremor. He pulled his boxers and his pants up, muttering under his breath as he did so. Eddie was so adorable, especially when he was mad, especially when he was mad and flustered- Richie noted. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“This place is going to close soon, I assume you don’t have a card so, I’ll just check these out, okay?” He spoke quickly,fanning his face so his blush would cool down, to no avail- he still felt so hot. He collected the books in his arms, and walked over to the desk to check them out. Richie watched him walk for awhile, his legs a bit shaky, before eventually getting up with legs that were a bit shaky too. He knew he was going to get scolded at by Eddie for doing something like that in public, but other than that- he knew Eddie had no complaints. So it was well worth it, plus, he needed that to get his mind off of his horrifying discovery. He walked over to Eddie and helped him carry some of the books- or more accurately, carrying all of the books except 2. The librarian gave them an odd look as she checked out their satanic books, one after the other. But, that was a small price to pay. They’d gladly take a million dirty looks over this than actually have to put the knowledge from these books to use. Eddie thanked the librarian kindly and wished her good night, and walking out and waiting for Richie by the car. He didn’t bother to hold the door open for him, which he could only laugh at. He didn’t really blame him, he did kind of deserve it. He ran after him as he stepped into the cool night air, happy to be rid of the enclosure that was his personal hell- the library. Feeling a bit less trapped, and bit more free. He was scared beyond any rational thought or comprehension, and was haunted by the words he had read. But still, felt a bit more free as he closed the library door shut, feeling a bit more rid of them as he walked to his car to drive him and Eddie back home. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">They walked down his basement staircase, narrowly avoiding the boards of wood that would squeak if you stepped on them. They knew that his parents couldn’t hear them down there, but they still worried about it nonetheless. They walked into the vast darkness, walking behind Richie who tried to feel his way around to find his bedroom door. His hand finally grabbed hold of the doorknob he knew was his, and opened his bedroom door. He let Eddie walk in first. His room was in a word, messy. There were shirts aimlessly scattered on the floor, even though he knew that Eddie would be coming over. But, Eddie had seen his room far worse, so this was probably what it looked like clean. CDs and cassette tapes were scattered messily all over the ground, and pictures of their friend groups and Trent Reznor and The Cure posters littered his walls. He looked at the polaroids of their friend group from various times in their lives, the oldest one he recognized as being from their first day of grade 3; the 4 original losers standing in front of Derry Elementary school. As he glanced quickly at each photo, he wanted more than anything to be able to jump into one of them. To be able to go back into simpler times would be a blessing right about now. His eyes travelled to Richie’s bedside table, and the 3 lighters that lay there. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He admired the carelessness of his partner, he really could be clueless sometimes. He knew that his parents had found them, and asked him what they were for a couple of times. And Richie would explain them away as being for his candles- which was a pretty stupid lie considering he didn’t own any. A simple glance around his room would disprove his story. I mean, does Richie fucking Tozier seem like the type of person to own candles for the aesthetic of it? No. He had those lighters because of how much he would spoke. He would spoke cigarettes with Bev, the few times she was allowed over at his house alone. And he would smoke weed with Bill, the many times he would come over to see him. Bill always supplied the weed though, Eddie had come to find out. His parents never paid enough attention to know he bought it, and Richie’s parents never paid enough attention to know they smoked it together. The parental neglect made Eddie almost thankful for all of the suffocating smothering he had to endure from his own mother- not quite there, but almost. That’s how you knew it was bad...
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“So.. elephant in the room... Stan might be a succubus, Richie said as plopped down on the bed, some could say with a bit of defeat if you were going to get down to the nitty gritty of it and analyze his body language. His tone was joking, but his body language gave off a much sadder disposition he would never let his words convey. He patted for Eddie to sit next to him, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked over to his desk, “Really? ‘Thought the elephant in the room were all these rolling papers on your desk. If I were you, I’d really hide these. You can explain away all your lighters, but I don’t think that you can explain rolling papers to your parents.. Richard.” Eddie teased, and Richie cringed at the use of his full name and scrambled to his feet to shove them all into an empty drawer before slamming it shut. “Don’t be on my ass about them, Bill was over last night- But, I do have to apologize about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company,” Richie watched Eddie scoff at that, which made him laugh. “You ass, you knew I was coming over...” Humour was nice and eased the tension of the thoughts they knew that they were both having. Eddie put his bag down, and decided it wasn’t best to address what they were thinking. That was future Eddie’s problem, even though ‘future Eddie’ would probably be in 15 minutes- still, wasn’t his issue. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He opened his bag and rooted through it, trying to find his pyjamas, which was very difficult considering all of the excess stuff his mom made him back- his mom always made him be overly prepared for everything. After looking through a rain jacket, and past 4 different bottles of various pills, he found his pyjama shirt. It was a very old and very worn in shirt Richie had given him ages ago, that thankfully his mom, despite all her paranoia and nosiness had never asked where it was from. Richie felt his face grow hot, “Are you just gonna like... change?” Richie asked awkwardly, and Eddie had to laugh. Where that same awkwardness was when he gave him a handjob in public mere hours ago was beyond him. He looked at him and nodded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like.. right here? Or??” Richie’s awkward tone became more prominent as his blush intensified. “Yah, you can look if you want but I’m not gonna fuck you, yet.” Eddie said, a flirtation in his voice as he sorted through his stuff and tried to find the rest of what he needed. Richie noticeably was taken aback by his forwardness, but tried to play it off cool- which, Richie had never been successful at doing. Eddie striped out of his clothes like it was nothing, and Richie carried on pretending like he thought so too. He tried not to notice as his boyfriend changed into his pyjamas, he was timid even though he shouldn’t be. The strangest things made Richie shy, Eddie had come to learn. He put his laundry in his over night bag, and immediately sat back down on the hardwood floor of Richie’s bedroom. He grabbed a few books from the pile, and started flipping through them. He looked up at Richie inquisitively as he waited for him to join him, he was still so flustered, and didn’t meet his gaze at first. He scrambled to join him, sitting comfortably close to him. “Why can’t we sit on my bed, wouldnt that be a bit more... comfortable.” Richie wondered, the texture of the wood underneath him was not at all comfortable, and he was already growing antsy as he took the book Eddie passed him to read through. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie laughed to himself before answering, “I know how you get Richie... we both know we wouldn’t get much done if we were there,” His tone as suggestive as ever, and Richie couldn’t argue with that. He knew Eddie was right, so he didn’t say anything snarky back, as he usually would. Silence crept up on them quickly, there wasn’t much left to say except for the obvious. The obvious that Richie had alluded to upon arrival, the obvious that they were too nervous to come back to. Neither of them wanted to be the first to bring it up, the first to make it seem real. But one of them had to, they both knew that. But neither wanted to be the one responsible. They would do this dance, make small talk, engage in banter, speak in observational humour to lull the conversation away from what needed to be said. Eddie knew Richie sure as hell wasnt going to say anything, he knew he had to. He took the plunge into the icy, dark waters, and headed straight for the bottom- though he couldn’t quite see it. He tried to get the words out, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was drowning it water that wasn’t there. “You’re right.” Was all Eddie could manage to say, not looking at Richie as he spoke. He knew he couldn’t bare to look at the horror that was probably in his lovers eyes as he knew what was nearing. The dreaded conversion. The dreaded realizations that were sure to come. “Excuse me?” Richie spoke, with no malice in his voice, only trembling fear. “You were right. What you said when we first came in here. You were right. St-Stan... Stan... is...” Eddie whispered, his voice lowering even though they were at no risk of being overheard. “Stan is what... Eddie. Stan is what?” Richie asked, he knew what he was referring to, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He hoped Eddie would lie to him, god he hoped he would say anything else besides what he most dreaded. He spoke with more fear in his voice than Eddie had ever heard it. It reminded him of when they were little kids, staring down the dark abyss of the sewers are they dared to walk further. Although his voice was deeper now, and somehow, more terrified. And unfortunately, Eddie couldn’t be the voice of reason this time.
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">There was no going back now. There was no pretending anymore. There was no where left to hide. They couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t real anymore. Once Eddie said what he was about to say, there was no hiding anymore. “Stan is a succubus- and that stupid fucking sacrifice wasn’t a joke, it was real. It was fucking real,” Eddie answered, panting irrationally, reaching over to his discarded fannypack and looking for his inhaler. He took a long, desperate puff, suddenly it grew so much harder to breathe as the words left his lips. Richie stared back at him with nothing but dread in his big doe eyes. He immediately slammed his book shut, he didn’t want to read anymore. “No. That’s not true- That shit.. it doesn’t exist. It’s not real, the devil and shit isn’t real. All these books.. all these books are meaningless!! This shit isnt fucking true-“ He threw his book across his room, he wanted this stuff out of his life forever. It was all way too real and he was so sick of it. The stack of books between him and his boyfriend was taunting him, teasing him. Eddie grabbed his hand soothingly as he watched the book land heavily on the floor, far away from him. He had so much empathy for him in that moment, he knew he felt so crushed, he couldn’t be mad at him for saying what he had said. His actions spoke louder than his words, he may have said he didn’t believe it- but his actions said that he knew all too well that what he said was true. “Yes Richie, yes it is true,” Eddie countered, and continued just to make absolutely sure Richie couldn’t dispute anything, just on the off chance he really didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t just in denial. He watched Richie’s lip quiver as he continued to speak, he was trying so hard not to cry, but Eddie knew the dams behind his eyes could only last so long. “Come on Richie, don’t lie to yourself. It isn’t a coincidence that Stan starts glowing, starts acting so insensitive, and that all these guys are getting killed. His new found abilities and all this shit matches everything in these books to a tee. We can’t keep acting like this isn’t happening. It’s happening. Stan is killing all these people, somehow Stan got possessed. Somehow he got possessed ‘cause that stupid shit you saw in that movie actually worked. Stan the Man is a demon now and there’s-“ He stopped himself before he could concede. He didn’t want to accept defeat. The was something they could do about it. They were one page away from finding that out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just fucking pennywise or some shit- and it isn’t our problem anymore! We kicked his ass once, it’s some other group of kid’s problem now.” Richie tried to explain, but Eddie knew that he wasn’t trying to explain it to him, but rather himself. He tried to take comfort in his words but he couldn’t, and Eddie knew that. Eddie spoke even calmer than ever, his heart broke at his boyfriend’s panic, his heart broke at the delusional denial he had. He could see that facade begin to crack, he was getting so close to being unable to deny it anymore. “Richie, he attacked children and you know this. Come on, it all makes sense. Stan is doing this, and you know it.” As soon as he took in Eddie’s words, Richie felt worlds away from him, he felt so disconnected from reality in that moment. He could see everything so much clearer. It all made sense, and at the same time, made so little sense. He wish he didn’t understand, he wished he didn’t have to understand. Because now that this was all out in the air, and they had this mutual understanding, they had to come up with a plan, to not only save their friend, but their town. Holy fuck- what were they going to do? </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He fell into Eddie’s waiting arms, and couldn’t stop crying. He had reached his limit, and couldn’t contain his feelings anymore. He wept into the slender shoulders of his lover, needing to hear the calming coos of his voice as he stroked his hair, he felt a bit jeuvenile but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be told everything was going to be okay. He needed that reassurance even if it wasn’t practical, even if Eddie was lying to him. He needed to be lied to. He stayed like that for awhile, holding onto Eddie for dear life as he drowned in the waves of realization as the truth washed over him. He felt like he was trapped in a hurricane, he was losing control of everything all at once. He tugged at Eddie, making sure he wouldn’t slip through his fingers too. Knowing that somewhere, on the other side of town, your best friend is being possessed by the devil to kill and eat teenage boys, makes you lose all sense of control. Eddie hugged him back just as tightly, “I’m right here, Richie. I’m right here,” He whispered, knowing that was all Richie needed to hear. And that was the only thing said between them for what felt like hours. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie finally lifted his head from the crook of Eddie’s neck, which was now wet from tears. He looked at Eddie, who was waiting for him to say what he knew he lifted his head to say. “I just.. I wish I knew why it happened. I just, hate not knowing. You know?” Richie thought out loud, wondering if Eddie felt the same at all. Eddie looked at him peculiarly, wondering if he was just testing him. “Are you being serious?” He asked, testing to be sure. Richie nodded, and furrowed his brows because he didn’t know why he was being tested. “Hell yah I’m being serious- no pun intended.” They shared a chuckle over the unintentional pun, and Eddie spoke again, “It’s obvious? Isn’t it? Didn’t you read the book??” He didn’t want to be the one to say it, because it shared the same wait was the previous exchange, but because he didn’t want to be so crass. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Richie laughed at him, “Bold of you to assume I read the books,” and Eddie scoffed, “Bold of me to assume you know how to read- I can’t believe you’re making me say this...” He quickly grew short with him as he was getting a bit flustered, Richie enjoyed pushing his buttons like this. But for the first time in their history with each other, he wasn’t trying to push his buttons on purpose. He genuinely didn’t know what he was referring to. Eddie paused briefly as he worked out a way to put it as eloquently as possible. “Well, it’s obvious. He obviously.. wasn’t a virgin when you sacrificed him. Joke or not, the devil doesn’t take kindly to nonvirginal blood- you’d know that if you read...” He mentally cursed himself as he finished speaking, there was probably a far better way to put it. Richie looked at him wide eyed as he put the final pieces of the puzzle together. “Holy shit... you’re right. Holy fuck- literally...” Richie said, laughing at his own unintentional pun yet again. “You’re such a sick fuck.. get your mind out of the gutter Eds, jeez...”Richie retorted since his joke didn’t land well. Eddie gasped, “Oh my god... says you! You literally jerked me off... IN PUBLIC!!! And, don’t even get me started on all those questions you were asking Stan that night. ‘Stan, have you and Bill done the nasty yet’, ‘Stan, how big is Bill’s dick.. the people wanna know’, ‘Stan, put up how many fingers Bill has had in you at once,’” He trailed off, his scolding turning into a very spot on Richie impression. Richie murmured something about trashing the trashmouth before speaking aloud his official retort. “Who? Me?? I didn’t say ANY of that,” He rebutted defensively, to which Eddie could only roll his eyes off. “Fine.. fine.. maybe i MIGHT HAVE gotten a bit ahead of myself.. MAYBE! But Stan knew I didn’t mean anything by it,” He continued. Eddie had yet to say anything, he was kind of enjoying watching Richie talk himself in circles. “Whatever.. Maybe I’m not really to blame after all. Maybe if Stanley had just been honest and said he wasn’t a virgin... all this shit wouldn’t be happening right now...” He spoke absently, trying to ease his own opinion of himself and the situation, not really Eddie’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie cocked his head, “Or maybe if you hadn’t tried to get him possessed?” he quipped accusingly.Blame was neither here no there, and it wouldn’t help them help Stanley so Eddie wasn’t interested in assigning it. He just wanted everyone there to be honest about the events and why they were taking place. “OR! I’m still not the one at fault here.. maybe If Bill hadn’t fucked him we wouldn’t be in this position right now.” He tried to ease his conscious. They paused for a moment, before coming to the same thought at the same time. “Bill!” They realized in unison. What the fuck were they going to do about Bill. They seemingly thought that in unison as well. “We need to tell him. I mean, he’s safe for now but... who knows when that’ll change. Who knows how long succubi can maintain control of their urges before they just start... attacking at random,” Eddie wondered, his voice faltering as he began to feel so much sadder. He hadn’t even thought of how this would affect him. Richie was almost immediate with his reply, “We can’t tell him. Think of how heartbroken he’ll be. I mean, he’s put him so high on a pedistole in his mind... think of how crushed he’s gunna get when he hears that his angel, gift from god, best thing to ever happen to him... is uh... actually the span of satan and might murder him at any moment.” He pointed out, “Oh be serious... he doesn’t actually think that highly of him... don’t exaggerate.” And Richie laughed audibly out of sheer disbelief, and he thought he was being delusional before. “He called him all of that in homeroom today, ALONE. It’ll kill him to find this out, he’s gonna see it as.. next level abandonment. The fear of knowing wether Stan will ever be the same again is going to kill him,” and Eddie knew now that what he was saying was true. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He knew full well that this would be the death of him, he loved Stan so much that he nearly depended on him. This was going to destroy him. “Yah but, if that doesn’t kill him- worry will. He deserves to know the truth...” Richie couldn’t help but admit that he made a compelling argument. “That’s true. Shit- I guess you’re right. I mean, it could go the other way... too. Right? I mean, like, he might love him so much that like... he wouldn’t even care, and be willing to help us out and help us save him,” and Eddie was refreshed by the sceptical optimism he now had. But, he couldn’t help but worry about how Bill would react. “He might get mad at you. I’m not saying it is your fault, but, he might interpret this as being all your fault. He’s gonna get so mad at you.. like... I’m talking about a type of mad that you can’t come back from.” The words pierced into his heart like bullets from a gun, firing one by one as each one was spoken. Richie didn’t have anything left to say, but it was a chance he was willing to take. Bill deserved to know the truth, and he deserved to be able to come to his own conclusions about what happened. He didn’t mind being the scapegoat if it meant that he would still love Stan- if it came to that, at least. He had a sick feeling that it would, though. “We’re telling him the next time we can get him alone, okay?” Eddie asserted, and Richie nodded in agreement. They sat in silence, before Richie finally had the guts to say what had been weighing heavy on his mind, if everything was being aired out, this might as well be said too. “Don’t.. don’t hang around Stan by yourself. At least for awhile now. I know the Stanley we know wouldnt lay a finger on you.. or lay a finger on anyone for that matter. But. This isn’t Stanley, this is... Satanley... or something. I’m not sure. All I know is, I would hate myself if you were a casualty of all this. We can find an easier way to tell this to the group but- I can’tthink of an easier way to tell that to you right now. And I want you to know that.. right now.” Eddie nodded in complacency, but not in agreement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He would never be in agreement with this. Stan was his best friend, he couldn’t bare to not be able to hang out with him alone. Who was going to help him organize his notes, who was going to talk about cleaning with him, who was going to make him feel not was weird for his little quirks, that often overlapped with his little quirks. He knew that what Richie was saying was coming from a place of care, and that it was in his best interest to respect that. He couldn’t wait until things could just go back to normal, so they could forget that this whole thing ever happened. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">They had talked and talked about their theories and what they had read for what felt like days- but was really only hours. As they continued to research, quiet had filled the room and their comments and conversion had halted. They wanted to focus to make sure they didn’t miss anything. The key to Stan’s safety could be hidden in a paragraph somewhere, so they had to give each page every second of their attention, as painstakingly boring as it might be. Richie’s bedroom floor had gotten messier and messier, filled with books laid astray, open notebooks, crumpled up papers, and pens for note taking left all over the place. Richie was sure that he had never had this many books in his room at once, and was definitely sure that he had never studied so hard for anything in his life. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie had to teach him to take notes, he taught him how to organize his thoughts in ways that were clear and easy to follow along, how to properly take notes and bulletpoints, and made him do all his titles in cursive. He and Eddie were very differently in that way, Eddie had a very meticulous way of taking notes, whereas Richie didn’t take them at all. Eddie had a way of writing notes that reminded Richie of Stan, except he didn’t write and rewrite the same thing over until he was satisfied with it enough, that was something unique to Stan. Richie was happy to have those two in his life, because their notes were always so great to cheat off of whenever they were in his classes. He wasn’t so happy to have to learn how to take notes Eddie’s way though. Eddie said something about keeping an organized archive of their thoughts would be helpful as they sorted through theories and overtime showed their findings to the others. But, Richie felt like he was in school or something, and he didn’t particularly care for that too much. But, every time he remembered to properly indent a new paragraph, Eddie would kiss him, and that was definitely a learning strategy that got his mind away from school. It wasn’t all terrible though, just being with Eddie was fun for Richie. His presence was soothing, and it was calming. It was nice to not be in his room alone anymore. Being trapped in his room at night, left with no company but his thoughts and his regrets wasnt any fun. But he didn’t feel as alone with Eddie, and he needed that more than anything else right now. Just watching Eddie made him feel better, observing his mannerisms made him feel alive. He watched as he changed the way he was seated, seemingly every 15 minutes. He would lie down, cross his legs, and all while doing so- Richie was transfixed on his legs, and the way they looked so good in the shorts he was wearing tonight. Depending on how he sat, the thin red fabric rode so high on his legs, teasingly showing off pale, creamy skin. And sometimes, riding high enough that fading remnants of lovebites left by Richie some days ago were on display as well. His shorts hung on his hips deliciously, flattering his slim hips beautifully, the curve of his ass was enough to make him lose focus on anything- especially whatever book he was trying to read at that moment. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eddie watched out of the corner of his eye as Richie’s stare continued to linger, but he said nothing. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve said something flirty, or winked teasingly when their eyes met- just as they had done so many times when Richie would admire him like that. They had a routine like that, because he could never keep his eyes away from him for too long. But, this was different. Richie’s focus had been taken and they both knew it, and it most likely wouldn’t come back for awhile. Richie couldn’t help it, though. Eddie just looked so cute, and sounded so smart when he explained things, and went over his many theories. He was an old soul, he was wise beyond his years; and Richie could listen to him speak for hours. He could also watch him while he spoke, too. Loving the way his voice would tremor, and being in awe of how his brown eyes had a honey amber hue under the lamplight glow. His presence was entrancing, his presence was distracting. And god knew, Richie needed to be distracted at a time like this. Eddie knew that too, and he wanted to help Richie be distracted, if only for a few moments. Eddie frosted if researching could wait, at least for a little bit, while he absently read the same passage in an old and withered book he picked from their stack of books they had yet to read. He kept rereading the same page, but it could never stick. He was barely there as well, he could just hide it far better than Richie could. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He was used to being the one to keep them on task, wether it be while they were doing school projects as young boys- to their satanic ritual research now. While they both knew that Richie needed to be distracted, they also knew far better. They knew that this research had to be done, and while festering in this might be taking them a few steps back- ultimately, this would be for the greater good. And, they knew that Stan would do the same for them, if the situation was ever switched. They hoped with everything in them that their friend group would never go through something like this again, especially hoping that they wouldn’t be the members of the group subjected to that if that were to ever happen again. They took comfort knowing that Stan would put in just as much work, if not more work, to help them. They weren’t just doing this to be good best friends, they were also doing this to ease their own consciousnesses. No matter how much they tried to be rationalize it and be supportive to the other, they could never internalize and take their own words to heart. They felt responsible for Stan’s fate, and that the only path to his salvation was in their hands. It was a crushing amount of pressure. His room felt more and more like a prison, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was forcing Eddie to share his sentence with him. He couldn’t focus on the book he had in his own hands, and the sticky notes Eddie had given him to make citations felt alien in his grip. The red light illuminating from his dark clock stared menacingly at him, glowing bright crimson as it showed the passage of time. He felt taunted. Every minute they sat there, Stan was possessed, someone was dying, and it was all his fault. He couldn’t stand this anymore, he needed a way out of this. He needed something to get him to stop thinking about it, he never in his life needed something so desperately.
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eddie could read him like a book, better than anyone else ever could. He didn’t protest when Richie pulled him up into his lap with slightly shaky arms. It was a touch that felt foreign to him, he wasn’t used to Richie holding him like that. He wasn’t used to him needing him like that, and need was not an exaggeration. Holding onto Eddie tightly, as if in his grasp was something sacred, something he couldn’t let go of. He tightly held onto him without any grace, but was so gentle as he held his hips. Just from his touch alone Eddie could tell he was miserable, tormented by his own regrets, desperate to feel better. Eddie knew that this was so much bigger than both of them, Richie needed a release, and he needed one terribly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eddie felt how hard he was beneath him. His tight black jeans did nothing to hide what lay beneath them. Eddie ground his hips a little harder as they continued to kiss, wrapping his toned legs tightly around his lover’s waist as he did so. Richie grounded into his open mouth, jolting a bit at the feeling. He clawed at his back, desolately. It was his way of begging for more as his mouth was preoccupied and unable to do so. Eddie did the same, wrapping his arms more tightly around his neck, weaving his equally desperate hands into his hair as they pulled Richie closer, if it was at all possible. Richie sucked on his tongue desperately, kissing him with a need that just a simple make out couldn’t provide. Eddie knew he needed more, and was more than happy to give that to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Pausing for a moment to look into Richie’s eyes, already wild with need as he stared back. Eddie paused for a moment as he savoured the moment of intimacy, and admiring how cute Richie’s eyes looked when they were magnified by those big glasses he’d worn since he was a kid. He ghosted hot breath against his lips, and he could feel Richie’s heart begin to race, almost to the beat of his breath. Eddie spoke, his voice quiet and small, but by no means frail, he had an element of power and intent behind the words he spoke. “You didn’t cum...” He whispered, one hand moving a piece of Richie’s messy bangs behind his ear so he could see him better, and his other thumb finding its way to Richie’s lips, stroking his bottom lip affectionately as it parted to speak. Richie struggled to maintain what little composer he had, and that was evident in his tone. “What do you mean by that?” He asked shakily, moving his face into Eddie’s loving touch, relishing in the subtle affection. “Earlier, you didn’t come... and I don’t think that that’s very fair,” Eddie explained, tracing patterns into Richie’s clothed chest as the fingers on his face trailed lover, tracing his jawline, down the column of his throat, to his collarbones to his chest not far below. Richie was intoxicated by his touch and his tone of voice. He could see where Eddie was going with this and he wanted it so badly it hurt- literally. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> His hardening cock pressed painfully against his jeans, and Eddie bit his lip to contain a slight groan forming in the back of his throat at the feeling of him twitching underneath where he sat. Eddie cupped his jaw, and kissed him gingerly, Richie savoured every moment his lips made contact with his skin. He loved to be held like this, so gingerly and so tenderly. Eddie could comfort him like no other. Eddie’s soft kisses trailed down his neck, becoming a bit sloppier now. He lightly nipped at the skin, savouring every longing sigh Richie made at the feeling of slight pain. He adored how his skin felt between his teeth. He trailed lower down his body, not touching him. He let his breath do the work, letting anticipation make him dizzy. He finally made his way down his body, Richie looked down at him breathlessly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He needed him so badly, and Eddie knew that. With shaky hands, Eddie unzipped his jeans, sliding them down his thighs, all the way down to his knees. Richie sighed as he felt Eddie start to touch him through his boxers, cupping his member that still was strained against the fabric. He pulled his boxers down with no warning, Richie bit his lip to suppress a groan as the air of the room ghosted against his cock. Eddie stroked him slowly, locking eyes with Richie. He was testing the waters, seeing how Richie would react. “Eds... please...” He panted, it was a tone Eddie was not used to hearing from him. Usually he was so loud, and in control. He couldn’t remember him being so needy. He knew that this was bad, and that he really needed a release more than he originally thought. He couldn’t tease him anymore. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He pumped him faster, working him skillfully in his hand. His tongue daring to make contact now, licking up his pulsing member, looking up at him with doe eyes- as if anything about what he was doing was innocent. He placed gentle kisses on his tip, before sinking his mouth onto his cock. He took as much of it as he could fit in his mouth, and continued pumping what he couldn’t fit with his hand. He had done a pretty good job of overcoming his gag reflex, but he still had a bit of a ways to go before it was completely suppressed. Richie always said to him that practice made perfect, regarding his gag reflex issue. And he was very willing to give him a lot of time to practice. He slid his length into his mouth, swirling his tongue down and around it, engulfing his member in the wet heat of his mouth. Richie groaned as he thrust further into his mouth, gently of course. He ran his fingers through Eddie’s neatly combed hair, gripping it by the foot as his tongue worked around him. “Fuck... just like that...” He praised obscenely as Eddie bobbed his head up and down on his length, looking up at him teasingly through long eyelashes. Richie was smitten, he really, really was smitten. His moans echoed in his room, getting to a volume Richie was nervous his parents could hear. But, it felt too good to keep quiet. Thankfully, they didn’t hear, and he took that as a sign to stay at the same tone. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie hollowed his cheeks around him as he got sloppier, he was getting hot and bothered by this too. He rubbed himself through his own shorts, and Richie couldn’t get over how hot he thought that that was. He was touching himself because he was sucking him off.. he was so fucking hot. He’d be the death of him, he was sure of it. He couldn’t take it anymore, he knew his end was soon. “Fuck.. honey... Can I cum soon?” Richie asked, nearing his end quicker than he anticipated. Eddie moaned in agreement around his length, which sent vibrations against his dick in the best way possible. He swallowed around him as he came, making sure to get every last drop and savour it too. Eddie released him from his mouth, missing the feeling of his cock there. He looked at Richie, basking in all the compliments that left his lips as he came down from his high. He’d never get over hearing how good he was for him, or how pretty he looked when he took his cock.
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“Already so hard and I barely even touched you.... fuck...” He noticed, and Eddie shamelessly nodded as Richie ran a teasing hand over his clothed cock. Richie helped him take off his shorts, precum now adorning the front of them. They did nothing to conceal how desperately hard he was, so there was no sense in leaving them on. Richie watched as inches of tantalizing skin was revealed to him, staring shamelessly at his erect cock. Eddie shuddered under his gaze, but was nowhere near as nervous as he used to be. He knew Richie liked what he saw, and would always like what he was going to see, so there was no sense worrying about it anymore. Richie slid his shorts down his thighs, and calves that had gotten noticeably more toned because of all the running he had been doing lately. Eddie kicked them off, and took his shirt off by himself. He threw it to the side, joining his shorts and Richie’s pants. “Fuck... Eds... you’re so pretty...” Richie spoke, just as bewildered as he was on the night of their first time. He punctuated every word with a kiss to his neck. Eddie blushed, and smiled sheepishly under the loving gaze and adoring words, “You say that every time,” he was so happy in that moment, so happy he didn’t even comment on the use of the nickname they both know he had a complicated opinion on. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yah, and I mean it every time... you’re so cute, Eddie...” he’d been calling him cute as a joke since they were young. But, you know the saying, behind every joke is a bit of truth. He had meant it every time, but he always meant it a bit more when they were like this. And Eddie liked it a bit more when they were like this, the effortless praises that slipped from Richie’s mouth were his weaknesses. He liked them so much because they were so effortless, they were his genuine thoughts and feelings and came out of his mouth without a second, or even first thought. Eddie knew he was loved, because of moments like that. And he knew he loved Richie because of moments like that. He pulled him closer, peppering his newly exposed skin with kisses. Tracing his teeth over his skin, watching in awe as the pale white flesh turned pink. He took a nipple between his lips, teasing the bud with his tongue. He rolled the other between his fingers, listening to Eddie fall apart quickly. He panted softly, mewling deeply as he tried to string a sentence together. “Please... Richie...” He sighed, gripping at his messy brown hair desperately, making sure his touch never left his body. “You say somethin, doll?” He asked, pretending he didn’t hear him, his mouth quickly returning to Eddie’s skin. He whined, “Richie... fuck me... please-,” His pleading was interrupted by a moan from his own throat, unable to contain himself as Richie bit down on his bud, looking at up at him with a seductive gaze to make sure he knew he did that on purpose. Eddie shivered under the intensity of his gaze, pleading for more one last time before Richie gave in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He grabbed Eddie’s waist, and pulled him onto his lap, he gasped for breath as their cocks touched. He held out 3 fingers near his already parted, soft pink lips. He was so eager to take them into his mouth, and slicked them with saliva until they were ready to prepare him to be fucked. They knew that when they were older, they wouldn’t have to do this part anymore. Once they were out, and on their own, they could actually go to a store, and get lube for that part. But, they both kind of grew to like substituting. It was intimate, it felt nice- not to mention Eddie’s tongue working its way between his fingers felt nice, and the string of saliva that connected his lips to his fingers for a moment when he released them was something he could always appreciate. Richie took Eddie’s member in his hand, it ached to be touched. He stroked in gingerly as Eddie sucked on his fingers, moaning around them in a way that sent chills down Richie’s spine. Feeling satisfied, he pulled his fingers away from his lips. He slid a finger in his hole, teasing his perineum ever so slightly before finger fucking him at a pace that was going to be torture for Eddie. He went so slow, not near enough to satisfy- and he was doing it on purpose. Working Eddie up to the point of being a panting, begging mess was so much fun. He clenched around his fingers greedily, angling his hips in a way that forced it to go deeper. He whined, “I’m getting better at this, I can take a few more now.... please.. Richie...” He could never say no when Eddie spoke his name in such a way. He put in another finger, which Eddie greedily swallowed up. He bounced his hips up and down on it, getting it to go as deep as it could, brushing across his prostate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie whimpered as he felt the intrusion of another finger, groaning Richie’s name as his pace speeded up. Richie worked his hand up and down his cock, rewarding him for his eager desperation. Thumbing at his sensitive frenulum in a way he knew Eddie liked, causing a trail of high pitched whimpers to flow from his mouth. “Richie... oh god...” Eddie mewled, grinding his hips against all three fingers, taking him so well. Richie clumsily took his shirt off, and was wondering to himself why he even still had it on in the first place. There was no fabric separating them now. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie felt that he was ready to take the real thing. He pulled his fingers out of Eddie’s hole one by one, easing him into the feeling of being empty- he knew Eddie didn’t like him pulling out his fingers all at once. He needed to be eased into it, and Richie always found that so adorable. He grabbed Eddie possessively, and lowered him onto his cock. Eddie shut his eyes, and moaned loudly as he was being filled to the brim, agonizingly slowly. The familiar stretch felt amazing, he wrapped his legs around Richie to pull him in deeper. He smiled at his enthusiasm. Eddie groaned as he felt him twitch inside him, “God, youre so fucking tight... fuck...” Richie cooed in his ear, Eddie shuddered at the hot breath against his skin, and at the words of praise. “Eds... you always feel so good...” He whispered again, as he bottomed out. Eddie squirmed in his grasp ever so slightly, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full in this way, it could go so much deeper in this position. “Richie...” Eddie mewled breathlessly, Richie couldn’t get over when he said his name like that. It was a sound he had waited so long to be able to hear. His soft voice brought a bit of heaven to the hell he now knew. He waited like that for a moment, waiting for Eddie’s brows to unfurrow and his facial expression to not be so contorted, he waited for Eddie’s nonverbal signs that he was ready. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> “I’m gonna start moving now, is that okay?” He cooed in his ear, moving to kiss the sensitive skin behind it softly. Eddie nodded with an enthusiasm Richie loved to see from him, he loved when he wasn’t too nervous to show how much he wanted him. Eddie groaned in anticipation as he felt Richie leave him, only to slam back in, setting a strong, quick pace as he thrust into him. Eddie groaned a combination of sighs and Richie’s name as he hit his prostate over and over again, beside himself with pleasure as his teeth suck into his neck. He arched his head back, allowing his moans to be heard and in order to give Richie more space to work with. His two hands held him possessively, fucking into him, adoring how Eddie’s hips moved in time to meet his. The slapping of skin and visual of his cock disappearing as it was buried deeply inside Eddie was nearly too much for him to handle. Richie couldn’t help but notice something as he fucked into Eddie over and over again. He looked at the wall behind him, and notice red ooze from the ceiling, into his bedroom wall. It dripped ominously over a Blink 182 poster in a way that made his skin crawl- he tried so hard to look away, and pretend it wasn’t there. He wanted to believe he had imagined it- but it felt to real. It dripped way too realistically to be fake, and it was way too red to be water or something from a damaged pipe. A sick surety washed over him, he knew it was somehow connected to Stanley. He just knew that in his heart, and was as sure of it as he was sure of anything he knew to be true. And with the blink of an eye, it was gone. His horror had only just begun, though. He tried to push it to the back of his mind but it wouldn’t leave him- it lingered there. It didn’t even stain his walls, it was odd. He didn’t know what he hated more, the fact it was there in the first place, the fact it disappeared so suddenly, or the way he knew Stan had just taken another life. He tried to push that all to the back of his mind, and focus on Eddie. His scent, his taste, his moans, his gasps, his pants, the way he was so deeply buried in his tight hole- Anything about Eddie was better than this. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eddie wasn’t feminine by any means, but he had a feminine finger- slim hips with soft, supple skin that Richie never missed an opportunity to dig his nails and calloused fingers into. Eddie’s moans were loud and high pitched, more so gasps and whimpers than anything else. He wasn’t nervous about being overheard, Richie’s room was in the basement, and he knew that it was too late for his parents to be up to be able to overhear anyways. He mewled loudly as Richie gripped his hips harder than he had before, possessively holding him as he fucked into him harder. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Eddie’s noises were everything Richie’s weren’t, his were quiet, low, and rough. His true nature was displayed in his facial expressions, rather than his sounds. Whispering slurred sweet nothings as he sucked on the skin of Eddie’s neck. He was very careful to not leave any hickeys up too high, as difficult a challenge as that was. He knew that if he did leave anything too dark or too noticeable, a more sensible Eddie that would come postcoital, would give him hell if he did. He supposed he had every reason to give him hell, though. Once, he absentmindedly gave a few love bites that were a bit too high up, and his mother took him to the emergency room because she thought he was having a deadly allergic reaction. He savoured moments like these, they were as tender as they were lustful. He treasured every moment Eddie came undone, and the moments leading up to it. He was so at peace, and wasn’t as tightly wound as he usually was. It was a beautiful thing to see. Pleasuring him was an art form, because his lover was a work of art. But, he looked his best when he was overcome with ecstasy, and sounded his best when he mewled his name over and over again like it was something sacred. One of Richie’s hands released itself from Eddie’s hips, he was starting to lose his pace and wasn’t as fast as before. His end was nearing, and he could tell Eddie’s was as well. He took Eddie in his hand again, stroking in messy timing with his thrusts, running his thumb over the head of his cock. He felt Eddie’s cock twitch and his body start to shiver, his thighs trembled. Richie continued to attack the skin of his neck, Eddie’s mewls were all the encouragement he needed. He clawed at his back desperately, needing to feel every inch of him as he thrust into him. All it took was one more thrust against his prostate, and Eddie was gone. He came all over Richie’s hand, throwing his head even further back as pleasure overtook him. His mouth fell open, panting his name ever so desperately as if he would never speak another word ever again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He saw stars as Richie fucked him through his orgasm, hitting so deeply over and over again as his own release was soon approaching. The feeling of Eddie clench around his cock, paired with the beautiful look of pleasure as Eddie was engulfed in euphoria, was what finally made Richie cum. He wasn’t too far behind Eddie as he released into him, spilling his seed into Eddie, who quivered at the sensation of it. Richie watched it spill out of him as he pulled out. He lay back down, the cool wood of the floor felt nice against the hot, sweaty skin of his back, it was a nice contrast. It also felt nice against the scratch marks Eddie had left there- and Eddie had the nerve to complain when Richie left hickeys on his neck. But, he guessed that they were easier to hide- so he didn’t think it would be fair to measure the slight hypocrisy there. He was far too happy. He pulled Eddie to his check, letting him rest his head against him as he caught his breath. Eddie was so beautiful like this, his hair messy, skin sweaty, cheeks flush with a vermillion hue of bliss. He ran his hands through his hair softly, was Eddie got comfortable against the skin of his chest, finding comfort in listening to his lover’s heartbeat. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Richie ran a shaking hand through Eddie’s soft hair as he laid against his chest, struggling to catch his breath; though his current placement made it a bit harder for Richie to catch his own. His pants and sighs were effortlessly adorable- it would never cease to amaze Richie how cute he was without even trying. He moved his tousled hair out of his eyes, his cheeks still glowed with blush, and had a shimmer of sweat to them now as well. Richie should’ve been happy, he really should have been. He wanted more than anything to be happy, to just focus on Eddie. To focus on the way he was holding onto him, on the way he clung to him desperately. The way Eddie looked at him with a heartwarming gaze, like he was the only thing that mattered to him at all, as if his attention would never be elsewhere again. He wanted to focus on Eddie, to focus on right now, but he couldn’t. He wanted more than anything to be able to do so, but he wasn’t. One emotion was overwhelming constant, and that emotion was guilt. It ate him up inside, and for some reason, now more than ever. It was a pungent sort of guilt, one that felt as poisonous as venom, and probably just as deadly too. He thought that in that moment, it was so overwhelming, that the strain of guilt on his heavy heart was more deadly than Stan ever could be. He was so sad in that moment, and Eddie could read him better than anyone, so he knew that too. He looked up at him, straining his neck in a way that was not at all comfortable to be able to meet his eyes, he looked into them intensely, studying them. The dark brown eyes had grown cold, as if they were vacant; frozen in time. That isn’t how he looked, ever; and especially not after sex. It broke Eddie’s heart to see him like that, it really did. Richie’s happiness was his security blanket. He always found great comfort in the knowledge that, whenever he looked into his eyes, there would always be a warm, jocund- some might even say a bit folly; stare looking back at him. He took great comfort and reassurance in that fact. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> It was though a light had gone out in the world, it set everything off balance- nothing in the world could be good again until he was happy. “Is something wrong?” Eddie asked, that’s all he could think to ask. His voice was low and a bit hoarse, and he was trying to speak as soothingly as possible. He knew something was wrong, he just wanted Richie to feel comfortable enough to admit it aloud. Richie didn’t answer immediately, he couldn’t think of anything to say. A lot was wrong- where could he even start? He had a lot of emotions, and not a single clue how to express any of them. He knew Eddie would understand what he was trying to say; or at least, try to understand. He knew there would be a lot of trying on both ends, because they didn’t write books on things like this. Sure, there were books on sacrifices, and succubi- but there were no such books about accidental succubi, or drunk sacrifices that were a joke. Richie paused, and spoke with a candour Eddie had not expected, “Shit, Eds- what isn’t wrong?” and Eddie still didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t sign up for easy- he signed up for Richie. So, he’d try his absolute best to get him to express his feelings to not only him, but himself as well- which he knew was always hard for him. Hiding behind jokes and satire was the easy way out; it was a defence mechanism Richie had had since they were little kids. But, slowly, Eddie was getting him to break down those walls, and express himself in a real way, and Eddie was so proud of him for that growth. He really hoped that Richie would be vulnerable with him in that way, tonight- and get through this venting with as little ‘voices’ as possible. Eddie could deal with Richie talking in circles- but not in a poorly done accent. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean by that? I want to h-“ And Richie cut him off, Eddie was going to say, “I want to help you” but Richie knew that, and a simple phrase like that could break down Richie’s barriers in a heart beat. He knew he could be vulnerable with Eddie, and he wanted to be. He was the easiest person to be vulnerable with; he loved him more than he loved anyone else. But, in order to be honest with Eddie, he had to be honest with himself in order to make the words come out- and that was a very difficult challenge. “I’m wrong, Eddie. I’m wrong! I’m such a fucking shitty person. Like. Seriously. Who the fuck?? Does that?? To their best friend. I do! No one else has ever done that, ever. Nothing like it was in a single god damn book we read, to be fair- small satanic selection in the library- but still. I’m a terrible person- if only I hadn’t have gone along with it, and been such an inconsiderate friend, this wouldn’t have happened. This is all my god damn fault, Eds. I don’t deserve you trying to help me. I should feel like shit! I ruined Stan’s life. I did. That was al me. It was all my idea, and I was the one who fucking said the shit that did it to him. Which means, I caused the fucking DEATHS of 4 people- that’s all on me. I can’t fucking live with this shit, Eds, I fucking can’t.” He blurted out, his lip started to quiver ever so slightly as he tried to hold his tears back. He couldn’t cry. In his mind, he didn’t deserve to cry. That would result in Eddie giving him sympathy and pity that he didn’t feel he deserved. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s heart broke at that statement, so much so that he actually felt a pang of sorrow in his heart- and wondered if he listened hard enough, if he could hear a crack. He had no idea what to even say to that, this was never a conversation he’d planned on having. This was never a problem that he foresaw being in his life. He wanted so badly to be able to say anything that would convince Richie to think otherwise. None of the things that Richie said were even close to the truth. He wasn’t to blame for any of this, and it hurt him to know that Richie held himself responsible. Yah, it was awful what had happened to Stanley but, how on earth could any of them have predicted that could have happened. He suddenly felt a thrash in his heart, a burning feeling of regret. He regretted that little comment he had made towards Richie an hour or so before, he thought it was just their usual banter- he had no idea that Richie was going through all of this!! He hoped that Richie didn’t internalize any of what he had said- he knew that he had had a bad habit of internalizing things. He hoped that Richie didn’t think that even he was against him- or that he believed that how Richie was feeling was at all true or at all valid. Because he didn’t- he wholeheartedly believed that it was not true, and that he was not responsible for this. He just hoped he could say the right things to make Richie know that that was true as well. “No, Richie... no. You’re a good person Richie. You’re a great person, and good people are allowed to make mistakes. You didn’t know that this was going to happen, don’t beat yourself up over this.. please..” And Richie didn’t say anything, but his reaction spoke volumes. He started to cry, and Eddie felt worse and worse every time a cool tear trickled down onto him- he wasn’t used to being the one having to be the comforter, having to be the emotional protector. It had only been 5 minutes and he didn’t know how well Richie always handled it. Never had he more so cherished all those moments Richie had comforted him, on issues ranging from large issues to just simple bad days. Eddie cupped his face in his shaky hands, and pushed their lips together. He knew that Richie was always a sucker for that sort of thing, so he hoped that maybe that could make him feel a little better. Richie was always so touch starved, no matter what. So, maybe this could help? Eddie didn’t know. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing at all! He was trying- god he hoped he knew how much he loved him, and he hoped he knew how much he was trying. Eddie kissed him desperately, passionately, trying to savour every inch of him in a way that would make Richie feel so loved and so validating, a feeling that Eddie was always trying to give to him, because he knew Richie always needed it... but usually never in tears. These actions were not reciprocated. Richie did not respond in any way whatsoever, it was almost as if Eddie wasn’t even there- and Eddie tried hard to not take that personally. He took the hint. He pulled away to either mumble out an apology and/or an explanation that, as Richie knew, he wasn’t very good with this sort of thing but he just wanted to do anything to make him feel better. Whichever his mouth would do- he always lost control when he was embarrassed; and Richie was used to that sort of occasional floundering. But, Richie inturupted him. He spoke softly, and monotone, as if he was one second away from exploding or bursting into flames. “Why... did you do that,” He was so calm, he was so obviously masking something. Somehow speaking as if he had no hurry, but rushing to get the words out all at the same time. Richie knew that well, he was a ticking time bomb and they both knew it.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
“Because, I love you,” Eddie blurted out, he did love him, and he knew that Richie knew that- but, he was more so just saying that to fill a gap of silence, wanting desperately to do anything at all that would make Richie feel a bit more okay. He was scrambling to find that ‘anything’. He knew Richie was a huge romantic sap, who loved things like that. He loved PDA, he loved random kisses for no reason, and he loved to say ‘I love you’ just because he could- and normally that was a colour Eddie despised and cringed at the thought of. But, he thought it looked pretty cute on Richie. Eddie hated that, he hated PDA- and not just because of the internalized homophobia; because he thought that things like that had no place being displayed! And, he couldn’t even be spontaneous in picking out his outfits in the mornings- so how the hell was he supposed to be spontaneous with kisses if even what colour polo he wore was picked out days in advance. He was really trying here; but, to no avail. Richie still was miserable. “Why do you love me right now, Eddie. I’m such a terrible person, I must be a terrible boyfriend too. Can’t even take care of Stan the Man- I know I can’t take care of Eddie Sp-“ cutting himself off as he hiccuped a sob, and Eddie was thankful for that because he was in no mood to hear that nickname right now. He knew he had to do something before he festered in these feelings. Eddie knew Richie knew that he wasn’t a terrible person, he just needed to say something to make him see that again. 
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">He wanted so badly to be like Richie in that moment. He wanted so badly to be able to be as funny as he was, to be as goofy as he was, to be as ‘devil may care’ as he could be, to be the ‘glass half full’ type of person he always was. To just be able to hold him in his strong arms, lean down to kiss him, and make sure that he knew everything was all going to be okay. But Eddie couldn’t do that, he could never do that. His arms weren’t strong, and he was 6 inches shorter than he was- so leaning down to kiss him was out the window even if they were standing right now. And he couldn’t be glass half full even if he tried- he was a glass half empty through and through. He couldn’t be warm and endearing all of the time, because that wasn’t him at all- he was realistic. Richie could make him feel like he was on cloud nine because his head was in the clouds as it was. But, Eddie could always be the one to keep him grounded, and to tell him what he needed to hear, wether he knew he needed it or not. “Stop talking like that,” He spoke a bit harshly, “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help Stan. Channel that energy into something productive, okay? This isn’t helping you, this isn’t helping him, and this isn’t helping me either- because at this point, I don’t know what to say. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself. You know who should be feeling sorry for himself right now? Stan. Except, he can’t. He’s too busy eating his fucking classmates because of something he can’t control, because of something awful that happened to him. And it doesn’t matter who’s to blame for that happening to him, all that matters is that it did. We can’t control what happened back then, but we can control what we’re doing now.” Richie knew he needed to hear that. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p> He thought for a few minutes, mulling what he had just heard over in his head. After awhile, he pressed a kiss to Eddie’s lips, making up for minutes earlier. Eddie felt happiness rush to him when he felt Richie smile against his lips; and that his cheeks were no longer wet with tears. Richie got up, waltzed over to his dresser, and put on an oversized sweater and an old pair of pyjama pants that were starting to fray at the bottoms of the legs. He felt reassured at the comfiness of his clothes, things could maybe be okay again. He wasn’t sure what about his pyjamas made him feel such a way, but he kind of liked that it didn’t make sense. Not everything had to make sense, he didn’t have to research everything. He couldn’t wait until he never had to research anything ever again. God, he couldn’t wait until he never had to read another book ever again. (This feeling foreshadowed him reading the Sparknotes websites on all of his best friend Bill’s best selling books- that even in adulthood he couldn’t be bothered to read- before going to the premiere of the movies to pretend that he isn’t confused.) And, he didn’t feel as as exposed now in the bagginess of his clothes, literally and metaphorically. He loved Eddie more than anyone on this planet but- crying in front of people was such a bummer, it was never something he could ever get used to. He had a quick change of attitude, Eddie really sobered him up. He always knew just what to say even if Richie himself didn’t know he needed to hear it. He spoke with an on track confidence that was as if his previous outburst hadn’t happen. Richie sat back down with him, and handed him a book and his overnight bag so he could change into pyjamas. “First, let’s discuss some theories, then, I’ll suck you off or something, hows that sound?” He spoke with a smile, and Eddie smiled back too, this was a refreshing change of attitude, “That sounds wonderful, honeybee.” Richie nodded, happily at his approval. “I was thinking, we need to tell the group about this too. We need to tell Bill about it on his own, either before or after, but he needs his own time to kind of.. sort it out, you know?” Eddie nodded, and waited for him to continue before he interjected, he could tell his point wasn’t finished. “I’m thinking we tell them all on a Friday night. It’s Shabbat, so Stan’s gonna be busy at his house anyways, so we have a moment alone with the group. We can let them in on what we were thinking, and how we discussed to solve the problem... Sound good?” Eddie nodded as he watched Richie speak with a confidence he didn’t have that night. He liked seeing this side of him, he liked seeing him make plans and think things through, he liked that he could see clearly now. “Whatever happens.... know that I love you, so much...” Eddie reminded him again, and Richie looked back at him, needing to hear that now more than ever. “I love you too.” Was all Richie could muster to say, and spoke nothing more, and nothing less. 
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ok so anyways: jonathan brandis’ portrayal of bill denbrough &gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;<br/>we don’t talk about it enough! and it is such a massive W for the bill denbrough community, stenbrough nation, etc etc etc</p>
<p>much love from me to you, thank you for reading this so far, 6 more chapters to go!! lfg!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ch. 4 𖤐 toxic valentine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan gets handcuffs, and feels like a god. Dangerous combination, huh?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has plot, but also has a hell of a lot of smut too, and it also could double as my love letter to 90s fashion stereotypes. enjoy my lovelies &lt;3<br/>Let Stan get dicked 2020</p>
<p>This chapter later on mentions self harm, it’s a very brief mention in the form of Stan praising Bill for not self harming in a very long time, just a heads up in case that may trigger you &lt;3 </p>
<p>Hope you are enjoying this so far, writing something with continuing plot (rather than the one shots i usually write) is difficult but! a fun challenge c:</p>
<p>Bonus points again if you know which other King novel I got this chapter’s victim from (I’m very uncreative when it comes to naming dispensable characters so...)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬,<br/>
𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞❞</p>
<p>𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟒𝟓</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley Uris sat in his bedroom alone, overwhelmed by a series of emotions that overtook him all at once. He didn’t know how to feel about what had become his every day routine, so he felt all of it, one could suppose. He thought about all of it as he admired himself in his bedroom mirror, something he had never done before until very recently. Sure, he spent a lot of time in front of a mirror- but not because of vanity, if anything it was the exact opposite. He hated the fact he had to always check that his shirt wasn’t crinkled, and that he had to refold and straighten his collar countless times, every time he left the house. This kind of looking in the mirror was new to him, but he sort of liked it. He liked looking in the mirror and liking what was looking back at him. But, his heart ached whenever he remembered what it took to be able to look like that, and wondered wether it would be worth it to never kill again. But every time he looked in the mirror he was conflicted, because feeling this amazing was wonderful. He hated how he looked when he wasn’t fully nourished, he hated how he felt too. He was dry, and he was lifeless, and he felt terrible too- he constantly had head aches whenever he hadn’t been fed in awhile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> And, not to mention how torturous it was to walk by a hallway full of potential victims, and not be able to have a taste. It was torturous, but, at least he didn’t have the self hatred when he was starving. The side of himself that was still in touch with his humanity was disgusted by his actions, and hated himself for it. He lived a partially miserable existence, now. He was constantly at war with himself- to kill or not to kill, that was definitely his question. He felt terrible for the act of taking a life, because he had been taught that that was the worst sin of all, and was pretty high on the list of commandments as something not to do. But, at the same time, he needed to do that to survive. He had done research on his new set of circumstances, and what it would mean to be a ‘succubus’ as it was called. If he didn’t feast on the flesh and lust of men, he would wither away, and cease to exist. He was doomed to walk the earth like this- forever. And that was incredibly daunting. On one hand, he knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault that he was like this now, it had been done to him. So, he might as well do what he has to do in order to make the absolute best of being a succubus. But, on the other hand, the hand he knew he needed to listen to, he couldn’t just kill for his own selfish reasons. He couldn’t kill at all- and he tried to stop himself. He really, really did. Because, once he came down from the immediate high that blood gave him, he couldn’t help but cry at how horrible it all was. And, how normal it was all starting to be. His death toll was starting to rise, he was on number 10 now. He hated how familiar blood looked on his fingers, and how accustomed he was getting to the taste of organs. He hated how much he was starting to love it, too. He hated the sense of strength and power he got from it all. He hated how he knew that this was effecting Bill, most of all. He tried to stop for him, because his peace of mind was worth potentially dying, at least, to Stan that was a more than fair trade off. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, he couldn’t stop. Something took over him whenever his condition knew the moment was right, and it was a good time to strike. That’s what was most terrifying about all this. It was like an out of body experience when it all took place, it was if something came over him, and compelled him to do the things he did. Expert precision overcame him, something overtook him, and made sure that he would never get caught. He somehow knew exactly what to do, where to cut, where to bite, how to leave no trace. He was powerless to stop it, it seemed like. Something he also could not stand about being a succubus now, was how eerily in tune with aniamsls he know was. It made him feel sick, it made him feel so far gone and detached from his humanity he couldn’t bare it.  But worst of all- it made it so hard to go bird watching!! All the animals would be called to him for some odd reason whenever he went to his favourite spots to watch birds. Which meant, he couldn’t go birdwatching with his father, or his friends anymore- which, he very much missed. The deer and the other woodland creatures that would come up to him, entranced, would scare all the birds away. Which made him terribly, terribly unhappy. He couldn’t do one of the things he loved most anymore, and there was a hole in his life he couldn’t fill with anything else. Bird watching was therapeutic in a very real way for Stanley, and his life felt incomplete without it. He strangely felt that he had lost a friend, now that birdwatching was now out of his life (hopefully, only temporarily out of his life, Stan dreamed). And he hoped that that wasn’t a metaphor for his real friends leaving him too- he hoped that this wasn’t a sick type of foreshadowing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked at how his skin glowed, his hair seemed to bounce, how lean he looked in his button up shirts that never seemed to wrinkle anymore (which gave him a whole other type of euphoria, a freedom from his intrusive thoughts regarding such things), and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe... just maybe... it was all worth it to look like this. But that feeling was quickly overtaken by guilt, and he felt awful about himself for even thinking such a thing. The phone on his dresser rang, he answered it immediately- hopefully a quick conversion with whichever friend was on the other end of the phone could take his mind off of everything, at least for a moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He picked up the phone and held it to his ear, “Hey, Stan, you weren’t looking very well at school, so I called to check in on you,” Eddie’s voice spoke from the other end of the phone. The question wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth. He and Richie had begun to notice a pattern with Stan, ever since they’d become privy to the fact he was a succubus. They’d notice that he would look dull and lifeless if he hadn’t killed in awhile, but, then a death would happen. And somehow, the next day, Stan would come into school looking sinfully effervescent, as if nothing had happened. They knew now that this wasn’t coincidence, this was Stan nourishing himself by feeding off of his victim of the night. He’d called to keep tabs on him, to make sure he hadn’t struck again in the time from which he last saw him, until now. “Hi Eddie...” Stan answered, in a delightfully cheerful, singsong voice. There was a unmistakeable tone of allure and seduction to his voice- Eddie’s stomach turned as soon as he picked up on it. Stan had killed again, and he knew that now. He only sounded like that when he was nourished, his voice was meek and quiet whenever he was hungry- it was quiet and meek all of that day, but it wasn’t like that anymore. “Thank you so much for checking up on me, I don’t deserve such a caring friend like you... I feel... scrumptious, don’t worry about me, honey,” His voice sweet as honey but laced with poison as he continued to speak, checking himself out in the mirror. Eddie grew uneasy as he tried to hold onto the phone with shaky hands. Stan continued to speak, “You know when you kiss a boy for the first time... and your whole body feels like it’s on vibrate... it’s that good. That’s how great I feel right now...” Stanley had killed again, he was sure of it now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> It was only a matter of time before the found a body, and it was only a matter of time before the community grew even more afraid than it already was. “Goodie for you, Stan. I kinda feel a bit sad because of all the murder in this town but... whatever, glad you can feed good.” Eddie muttered, testing to see how Stan would react. “Well that isn’t a very nice tone... life’s to short to be worried about things like that,” He replied absently, playing with a knife he’d been keeping in one of the drawers of his dresser, hiding it underneath some sweaters so his parents wouldn’t find it. He traced it teasingly along his arm, before digging it into the flesh of his arm. He was entranced by it, because he couldn’t feel a thing. He watched the blood drip down his arm, but stop as the cut started to magically seal closed, and then vanish- as if it never even happened at all. He couldn’t be hurt anymore, and it fascinated him. He did this quiet often, just to watch all his injuries disappear, it was bewitching to be a bit far from human. Eddie hated the way Stan could speak like that, his words cut him like the knife Stan was playing with on the other end of the phone. His words were eerie, but he had such a captivatingly seductive way of speaking he didn’t want to hang up. He knew he needed to call Richie, and tell him about the conversion. Eddie didn’t know what to say to the creepy thing Stan just said, it was so unlike him to be so apathetic. He didn’t recognize who his best friend was anymore, and he knew that he and Richie needed to work to bring the real Stan back, if that was even at all possible. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie sighed, “Bye, Stan, I have to call Richie about something-“ He told him, finger hovering above the end call button, lingering on the call for a few more minutes, as he heard Stan start to speak his good bye. “Booo... and we were just having the best conversion. I’m crossing you out,” He spoke in that same captivating way of speaking, but with a fake pout in his voice. He made a crossing motion in the air with his fingers, a motion Eddie couldn’t see. Eddie scoffed, “Yah, good bye, Stanney,” Eddie said good bye to him fondly, hating to have to hear Stan speak in such a way. He used a nickname that melted Stan’s heart. He felt so far removed from the sweetness, and innocence it had. That had been a nickname given to him by his friends when he was so much younger, when times were so much simpler, when his hands weren’t permanently stained with red and regret. Eddie was going to hang up, but Stan wouldn’t stop speaking. It was as if Eddie wasn’t even there, he was just speaking to hear the seductive mellows of his own voice. But Eddie felt compelled to stay on the call, swayed and held captive by the mellows of Stan’s own sirens call. Stan rummaged through a different drawer, and found a lighter he had been hiding. He flicked it on and off, the flame dazzled him. He watched it go out and reignite over and over again, and Eddie wondered what the faint clicking noise was on the other end of the phone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I, feel like a God...” Stan whispered into the phone, taking a lighter he’d gotten from Richie months ago, and holding it to his tongue, loving the few seconds of a burning sensation, watching the tip of his tongue turn to ashy black, before it healed completely in the blink of an eye. “Okay? Listen, I gotta go. I gotta tell Richie something super important,” Eddie spoke, he had said bye so many times, but there was something keeping him there. He hated it. “Funny you mention him... Richie is looking really cute to me lately. So tell me, what’s the story down there.,,,” He mewled into the phone, speaking low and seductively in a way only a succubus could. “I have to go,” But Stan was the one who hung up, swishing his tongue around in his mouth, before doing it again, Feeling a sense of power and control every time his finger flicked the lighter back on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie’s skin crawled as he processed what had just happened. It was odd speaking to Stan now, knowing that he was literally on the phone with satan. He quickly dialled Richie’s number with trembling fingers, needing to speak with him immediately about what happened. “Hey Eddie, what’s up?” Richie asked, and he could tell by the long pause that something was upsetting Eddie, his voice trailed off into a tone of concern. “I just got off the phone with Stan...” He admitted, voice in clear distress. “How was it??” Richie asked, growing a bit more worried now. “I feel like I need to take a full body bath in holy water- that’s how it was...” They both laughed at his little joke, which eased some of the tension and worry on both ends. “It was weird. He asked about you... and about your dick. It was really creepy the way he was talking.” He explained and Richie looked puzzled now, not that Eddie could see that. “What’d you tell him? You told him I’m pretty big- right?” He spoke, and Eddie sighed, exasperated. “Oh my god... That’s what you’re concerned about??? I didn’t tell you that because THATS what’s concerning. It’s clear that Stan isn’t... Stan isn’t in in his right frame of mind. He normally wouldn’t ask that, even now, when he hasn’t been fed in awhile he doesn’t ask things like that. He’s clearly killed someone. He spoke to me weirdly too.. in a way he only sounds after he’s... you know.... all glowy and pretty and shit” The playful tone from Richie’s voice faded away immediately as Eddie’s words sunk in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Richie sighed with worry, it all made sense now. He should’ve known it was a matter of time, considering how Stan has been looking these past few days. He hated himself for not being able to see this coming. “Holy fuck. I wonder who it was...” knowing full well they’d see it in the news tomorrow, or hear it at school. It felt so weird being on the phone with a person, who had just been on the phone with a murderer- mere hours or maybe even mere minutes after he had committed his crime. “Yah, I wonder...” Eddie grew uneasy. It could’ve been anyone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t just anyone, but, it was no one their friend group new personally. He was a police officer, born and raised in Derry, Maine. He was put in charge of patrolling the roads of Derry, because ever since the first victim was found in his car, the police thought that that was a good lead to exhaust. The officer’s name, ironically, was the same as Stan’s boyfriend, Bill. Though, he went by Billy Halleck, or Officer Halleck, if it was Stan speaking to him. Stan had never met him, seen him, or interacted with him, it was all circumstantial. He was in the wrong place, at the right time- unfortunate for him, but very fortunate for Stan. Stanley was feeling awful earlier that day, a stark contrast to how great he felt now. He was pale, he was dull, he felt like he could drop dead at any moment. He needed to clear his head, and he figured a walk would do him some good. He didn’t even have the strength to try to fly that day, he felt like a shell of his former self, or more accurately, a shell of his new self. He politely declined Bill’s offer to drive him home from school, an offer he had accepted so often it had become their tradition. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Every day after school, he and Bill would drive home together. But, he needed the air, and he didn’t trust himself to be alone with Bill. He was so hungry and so desperate to feel the wholeness he craved so desperately, he knew he would pounce on the first man he saw when he was alone. He wasn’t stable enough to be by himself with him right now. He politely declined, and kissed him good bye, and told him he wanted to walk home. But, he knew, and more importantly, Bill knew that his house was about a 30 minute walk from their high school, and that was a generous estimate. Bill almost didn’t let him go, he knew it would be a very long walk, and he didn’t want Stan out and about while there was a killer on the lose. Ironically, Stan was the killer Bill was trying to protect him from. Stan tried to ease his worries, and reasoned with him that only one out of the ten victims were found by a highway. And, Bill reluctantly let him go, but told him to call him as soon as he got home. Stan took note of his stutter as he pried himself out of Bill’s grasp, and walked home. He knew watching him walk was killing him, but, he knew even better that he might actually kill him if he drove him home. So, he’d take the figurative death over the literal death any day. Usually, he loved to walk home. He liked the fear and power that he felt when he did so. Everyone was so scared to be out of their house now, but he wasn’t. He was what they were afraid of, he felt so powerful- most of the time. He couldn’t enjoy that usual sensation. He felt like he was going to pass out as he walked, the fresh air in his lungs did him a bit of good, but not much. He was just happy Bill was safe, but, he did feel a bit lonely walking down this old, beaten road by himself. The small town atmosphere was calming, but a bit creepy if he was being completely honest. It was all old, abandoned land and trees, as most of Derry was. There wasn’t a house for miles, and any house that he could see, was old and abandoned. It was more of a beaten old barn wood being barely held upright by rusty nails, more than it was a house. It was a rustic sarcophagus that preserved a time long gone by. It even creeped Stan out as he walked by them, it reminded him of that old house on Neibolt street his friends were haunted by. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He didn’t like it one bit. He felt like he was on deaths door in that moment, honestly and truly. Until, he noticed a cop car. He flagged it down, and he wasn’t sure what compelled him to pull up to him. He wasn’t sure if he thought he was a victim of the killer, or possibly the killer himself, patrolling the streets for his next victim. If he thought the ladder, he wouldn’t be completely far off. He was the killer, but, he wasn’t patrolling for his next victim. He was depriving himself of time with his boyfriend for the sake of his own safety. So, he was honestly kind of the good guy if you really think about it. But nevertheless, the police officer stopped, and as soon as he opened the door to speak to the disheveled, frail, teenage boy who flagged him down, it was all over for him. That was the last stop he’d ever make, unbeknownst to him. Stan ate what he needed to, and left him there for some other pedestrian to find. He looked at the shiny name tag on his crest of badges on his chest, “LT. Billy Halleck” it said, not that it made any difference to Stan one way or the other. If one Bill had to die to keep his Bill safe, so be it. He noticed his severed waist still had a belt on it, as he took the last few bites of his leg. He had standard stuff clipped to it, some mace, a gun, all things he knew he couldn’t get away with stealing. Until, he saw a pair of handcuffs which he gladly took. Partially because he could, partially because he wanted a sick sort of souvenir from 11#, and also because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Bill being rough with him like that from time to time... He licked his lips clean with his tongue, and ran away from the scene of his crime at an inhuman way he was happy to be able to achieve again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He savoured the taste of blood on his lips, it tasted so sweet, and it had been so long. He nearly forgot what it tasted like. He wanted to maybe fly home, but, he’d save that for another time. He knew that that would be an extremely scary sight for the community, considering all of the victims that had been killed had ranged in age from 16-23. But, that was a grown man, that would strike more fear into the hearts of the community than any other victim had before. And, it would take any suspicion that could have ever been on him, away. Because, Stan did not look like he had the physical strength to kill someone that size. So, it was a win win as far as he was concerned. He loved the regained sense of seduction and invincibility that he had, he knew it was a great colour on him. He called Bill as soon as he got home, “Hey Bill, I made it back safe,” He spoke, regaining his sing song voice that no one, especially Bill was able to resist. Bill was overjoyed to hear from him, his paranoia could be put to rest now, he didn’t have to worry about him any more that night. His feelings were hurt, he didn’t like that Stan didn’t want to drive home with him. As much as he explained, he still felt that he was leaving him, abandoning him a bit. His heart couldn’t help but sting all the way home. “Aww, hey baby. You sound so much better, you were right, a bit of fresh air did do you some good, huh?” He asked, completely overjoyed. He missed Stan so much, even though it had only been about an hour or so since he’d seen him last. He needed to be eased into time apart from him, he needed their after school car rides. He wasn’t ready to let him go yet. “You have no idea...” Stan laughed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need to tell Bill, tonight. Perfect opportunity. It’s a Friday night, Stan is home, Bill isn’t with him. We need to tell him, Eddie.” They hadn’t told him yet. They felt really bad about it, but, in all honesty, what could they do? They were damned if they told him, and damned if they didn’t. Sure, it might have been wrong to tell everyone else before they told Bill- since he probably had more right to know than anyone. But, it was more complicated with him, they hadn’t figured out a good way to put things. And, they figured, that it was even worse that Stan hadn’t told him yet either, or at least, to their knowledge Stan hadn’t told him yet. “How do we even tell him? I know we have to.. but... how?” And Richie wondered for a second, because that was a great question. He didn’t know how to answer it, either. “I don’t know Eds... it’s a hard one for sure,” And he was so distressed he didn’t even make a ‘that’s what he said’ joke (The losers always changed out the pronoun in that classic one liner), and Eddie was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice he didn’t make one. “Well, I’ve been thinking. I think he’d rather be eaten alive by his boyfriend, rather than be eaten alive by worry. First we need to talk to Bill, and explain everything to him. We can’t sugar code anything even if we might want to. Then, sometime soon, we need to talk to Stan and confront him about what we know- but then, tell him we want to help him. So like... he doesn’t feel like he’s being attacked or anything, We definitely need to ask Stan what he did that night... you know.. when he came back.” What they still didn’t know somehow alluded them, and also haunted them. Richie nodded in conformation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> But then realized that Eddie couldn’t see that, because it was obviously a phone conversion, and hummed in agreement. “It’s tough, I don’t know how we’re going to explain to him- your boyfriend is basically satan now and it’s all our fault. But, we have to.” His cheerfulness came back again, and Eddie was happy to hear it again. His shoulders were a bit less tense, conversion was becoming easier again. “Yah yah, whatever. If it’s anyone’s fault- it’s yours, I have no part in this. But good plan. Call Bill right now, and get him to meet us somewhere. Call me back with the details, okay? Okay.” Eddie explained to him, both smiling on the other ends of the phone, they were excited to see each other, at least. “Yah yah, I’ll do that. Bye, Eds, I’ll call you again in like 15 minutes with the details, I love you,” He spoke, hanging up just in time to hear Eddie’s soft, “I love you too,” before the call ended. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed, it was strange how something he did every day felt so dreadful now. Bill was his best friend, he called him every day. But, he couldn’t think of something he didn’t want to do more. He tried calling his number, a number he knew off by heart, but haunted him now. And, as if it was a sick sign from the universe, when he called it, and put the phone to his ear, waiting for him to pick up with baited breath, and trembling heart; the line was busy. He wanted to hang up, take that as a sign and move on. But, he knew he couldn’t. So, he pressed on, and waited. Little did he know, Bill had called Stanley just a few seconds before Richie hung up the phone. Timing was a bitch when it came to this group. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill called Stan, and was delighted as always to hear his voice say hello so lovingly on the other end. “Hey, babydoll, I wanted to ask you something...” He trailed off as he wondered how to phrase it. “What’s up?” Stan asked, his voice flowing so smoothly, speaking as sweet as honey, but the poison that laced it was not quite as evident, the seduction was still there, but it wasn’t as rough. It was just as alluring, though, if not more so. So, maybe that, in a way made it deadlier. He spoke sweeter to Bill, he could keep his inner evil at bay for him. He knew that Bill liked him best when he was sweet, and when he was soft spoken, just as he had been before all of this had happened. “I know that it’s a Friday, and you’re busy on Friday’s but... my parents just left town...” He mused, and Stan spoke softly on the other end of the line, soothing Bill’s worries about everything going on in their town. Even if it was only for a moment, he treasured how Stan could make him feel such a way. “Where’d they go?” Stan asked, an innocent tone to his voice, it felt familiar but out of place to him considering everything that had happened. He liked that he could pretend everything was fine with Bill. “I think Bangor, I’m not exactly sure. They never tell me anything- but, I came home, to a note on the fridge that said they were leaving on Friday, today, and coming back Sunday morning..” He trailed off for a moment, his words saddening him a bit, and saddening Stan too as his voice faltered ever so slightly. Ever since Georgie died, they had acted as if they lost both of their children, and Bill wondered if they remembered they were still parents sometimes. He sometimes felt like he needed to do a reality check to make sure he was even real, he needed to pinch himself once or twice daily- just to make sure he hadn’t faded into the walls. Or to make sure he wasn’t stuck in the photos that hung in their hallways of a time long gone by, a time when they were a happy family. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> They hardly spoke to Bill when they were home, they barely told him of their plans and their comings and goings. Bill didn’t like being in an empty house all alone, but, it might as well always be empty. It’s not like it ever felt full, it didn’t feel like a home these days. His parents were both so detached from it, he knew they didn’t consider it much of a home either. Bill had a funny feeling that the only times his parents thought about him, were when someone asked them about him. They were so far removed from him, it felt weird to call them his mother and father, they certainly didn’t act like he was their son anyways. The only times his parents dared to step foot on the top floor of the house was to wash Georgie’s sheets. But, they were never changed. She had washed them twice a week, every week for the past 5 years. They clung to the comfort that that have to them, they needed Georgie’s room to never change. They wanted it to be 1985 again so fucking badly, and it hurt Bill to that very day that the present day wasn’t enough for them- that he wasn’t enough for them. He wanted so badly to look into their lifeless eyes, and say, “Look at me! Please look at me!” because they didn’t. They saw right past him, and when they did look at him, all they saw was their oldest son, Bill, who would never be Georgie. Bill supposed he was just lucky that he got a note this time, he remembered very vividly, when they had left for a week to go to Boston, and didn’t bother to tell him. He remembered that week in the 8th grade like it was yesterday, and he hoped it wouldn’t always be so fresh in his mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wanted it to be 1985 again too, on days like that. And on days when he couldn’t get days like that out of his mind. That’s why his parents kept Georgie’s room exactly as it was, so they could hold onto a little piece of 1985 too. Not only had Georgie’s room stayed the exact same since he’d died, the whole house stayed the exact same. No new pictures were hung up, no new couches or furniture, a calendar on their fridge still stayed frozen on April 1985. Stan’s heart ached for him, he couldn’t let Bill wallow in that all by himself for a weekend. That wasn’t right at all, his heart broke at the thought of it. Bill came out of his daze, and spoke again “So I was wondering, do you wanna come over? You can stay as long as you want- invitation is open until as soon as my parents pull into the drive way,” His voice sounded a bit happier now, which made Stan happier too. “I would love to!! But, um.... I don’t know if my parents will let me. It’s Shabbat after all, and my dads gonna make a huge deal like always... but! I haven’t missed one in a couple months so... I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I missed one...” Stan reasoned, and Bill was happy that Stan accepted. It still felt so amazing to know that at least Stan would always want to spend time with him. Bill was jealous of Stan’s family. His parents were so nice and kind to him, he’d give anything to have a dad who actually wanted him home on a Friday, and he’d give anything to have a mom who would cook something special for that celebration. He’d been invited to Shabbat at Stan’s house plenty of times, he had no idea why he’d want to give that up to hang out with him, but, he was grateful for it every single time. “You’re so good, baby... I cant wait to see you... I’ll pick you up at-“ He looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, which currently read 7:30. He thought, and continued “I’ll pick you up in 15, alright?” “Mhmmm, sounds good,” His voice a bit shaky, he was blushing and taken a bit aback by the sudden praises, but, they were very much welcomed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill hung up, and Stan set the phone down, and sighed. He knew he was in no place to skip religious events, considering his current state- he needed all the time with God that he could possibly get. But, this was Bill- and if one service was what was going to keep him out of the gates of hell; he’d gladly skip it for a weekend with Bill. He looked through his closet, he had no need to rummage because everything was so tidy and neatly organized, so he found an overnight bag very easily. He set it on his dresser, and neatly packed and folded enough clothes that he would need it he was staying with Bill as long as planned. He was so excited, his heart fluttered at the thought of all that time together. He looked in the mirror longingly as he packed, but, this time not at his reflection.  He was looking at what was wedged between the frame and the mirror, all of the things Bill had given him over the years. Little sketches, poems and love notes Bill had given him he had given to him recently lined his mirror, and he blushed as some words caught his eye. He was so lucky to have Bill, it never ceased to amaze him how talented he was at everything he did. He didn’t know what he did to have a such a creative boy all to himself, he couldn’t help but feel he didnt deserve to be loved in the way Bill loved him. He loved him excessively, and was always doting on him, always giving him little sketches he’d done of him, or leaving little notes taped to his locker he’d die if anyone else ever read them. Once, Richie found one of his poems before Stan did- and he nearly died from embarrassment. Stan couldn’t express love the way Bill could, he was no where near as talented as he was. He knew Bill didn’t expect that, and loved Stan as he was, and appreciated every form of love Stan could express his in. But, he felt that his gestures paled in comparison to his- he didn’t know how he could compete with what Bill could do with a pen and paper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He had always been the creative type- he’d always been good at writing, and drawing- but he had taken a liking to poetry only a year or so ago. He said that he was suddenly so good at it because Stan was his muse, and he could find more beauty in the every day mundanity because Stan helped him see beauty in all things, and that his beauty radiated onto all things- or something pretentious like that. Stan couldn’t speak like that even if he tried, but somehow Bill loved him regardless. He was so lucky, and he knew that better and better every single time he reread Bill’s letters to him. But, he had to cut the reading short- he didn’t have much time before Bill got there. He liked to be at the door ten minutes early, because Bill was always five minutes early for every single plan he’d ever made- he was polite that way. And Stan didn’t like it when his parents answered the door for his friends, and he especially didn’t like it when his parents answered the door for Bill. Saying something well intended but also, very embarrassing, was second nature to his parents, who always meant well. But, Stan wanted to avoid that awkwardness- and the awkwardness in the car as Bill, in good spirit, would bring up and poke fun at whatever his parents had told him about him- as he did every single time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, Stan hurriedly grabbed the rest of what he needed, and put it in his bag, closing the door and running down his hallway, and down his stairs. He made sure to check he still had the stolen handcuffs in his pocket- and yes, they were there. Stan couldn’t help but feel like they were going to be of some use to him tonight...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill put the phone back on the hook, he was so happy that he was going to see Stan. He could hardly wait! He figured he’d probably just stare at the clock for 5 minutes until it was time to get in his car to make the 10 minute drive to Stan’s house to pick him up- that’s how excited he was. He was going to have Stan all to himself for 2 days, 3 if you were to count tonight. He was thrown from his daydreaming about what tonight was going to entail for him, when the phone rang. Eerily, nearly a second after he had gotten off the phone with Stan. It made him feel uneasy. He couldn’t place why it made him feel that way, but it certainly did. He picked up the phone, and answered curiously, “Hello?” and the voice on the other end laughed, but it was a fake kind of laugh. It was a laugh used to diffuse tensions, but it only managed to create them in that moment. “Jesus, Big Bill, don’t even recognize your best friend’s number? For shame.... it’s me,” Richie introduced himself without even saying his name, and Bill eased a bit in his seat. “Hey Richie, what’s up?” He was still a bit curious as to why he was calling him at such an hour. Usually Richie only called between the hours of 10:00PM-4:30AM if he had no plans with you, so it was odd that he was so ahead of his own schedule. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve been trying to call you, but the lines been busy for a bit. I was wondering, wanna hang out?? We could watch MTV and get stoned or some shit, you know, the usual,” Richie explained, and he wasn’t lying, he really did plan on doing that- he just conveniently left out his plans to tell him his boyfriend was a demon directly afterwards. “Shit, I totally would have- But I just got off the phone with Stan, I’m gonna be hanging out with him all this weekend. Sorry about that,” He answered, but, was happy he was so popular. Two people wanted to hang out with him at the same time?? That felt really good. Richie’s heart sank to the depths of his being at those words, “Oh no, he got out of Shabbat?” Richie asked, his voice now hazy with worry. That made Bill a bit suspicious, it wasn’t like Richie to remember things like that. He had a horrible attention span, and thus, a horrible memory. It was very out of place for him to make a comment like that. “Uh... yah... he did. Why do you... seem so sad about that?” He asked, an accusing tone to his voice, accusing him of what, neither were sure. All he was sure of that this situation didn’t feel right. “No reason!” Richie spoke quickly, trying to ease suspicion but inadvertently causing more, and they both knew that as soon as the words left him. “Do you think me and Eddie could stop by before he gets there? We have something to say,” He continued quickly, getting what he needed to say out before Bill could have the chance to hang up the phone and end the call. He heard Bill sigh from the other end of the phone, he could picture him running a hand through his hair out of sheer exhaustion, growing tired of this back and forth. He knew Bill too well. “Bro, stop trying to cock block me. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I tried to invite myself over next time YOU have Eddie over when you’re home alone. Good bye, Richie. I’ll call you when Stan goes home,” He spoke flatly, before Richie heard him hang up, and his voice be replaced by dial tone. Richie couldn’t even be too mad, he did have a point. He had no idea what he was going to tell Eddie. Bill was in deeper shit than they both thought. He was only comforted by Eddie’s assumptions earlier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> If Eddie was correct, and Stan had killed someone, at least Bill was safe from Stan as of right now- they had kept a track record of all the deaths and how they lined up with Stan’s cycle of beauty, he never killed twice in a day. And, they knew that Stan was keeping Bill safe, as of right now, Bill was protected. But, they still had to tell him the truth so he could stay away, and fast. But, he had slipped through their fingers yet again, avoiding them though circumstantial coincidences. Trying to get the truth to Bill was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, impossible. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan ran down his stairs, and checked himself out one last time in the mirror at the landing, walking into the foyer that connected to the stairs. He looked as perfect as ever, and he was so giddy with excitement for the doorbell to ring. But a thought occurred to him... he had forgotten to tell his parents of his plans; oops. “Shabbat Shalom, Stanley! You’re finally downstairs, you’re just in time to- wait, why do you have a bag with you?” His father spoke from their living room, his mom looking over at him too, his presence inturupting lighting the two Shabbat candles. “Oh um... Bill invited me over for the weekend. I know that.. I didn’t tell you guys but, he’s coming to pick me up in like ten minutes so I was hoping you’d let me go....” He smiled pleadingly, nonverbally begging his parents to not be too mad. He purposefully left out the part about his parents not being home... because he knew that fact would play a huge part in wether or not he’d let him go.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> His father sighed, “Fine, fine. You can go but... please, don’t make a habit out of this? Okay? Just this one time, you may go. But, please give us more notice, does that sound fair?” And Stan smiled, genuinely this time, and nodded. If under any other circumstances, and if it was any other friend, they probably would have said no. But, they knew that tensions were high in town because of all the boys going missing (little did they know, Stan was the cause of all of that paranoia and tension), so they thought that Stan should be with a friend right now, to ease some of that tension. And, they also were growing a bit suspicious of the nature of his and Bill’s relationship but, they kept their skepticism to themselves. They knew Bill made him happier than all of his other friends did, and the amount of time they spent together was a bit suspicious. As long as their son was happy, they were happy- they only had one son, so they wanted to love him as best as they possibly could. They knew a bit of all of his friend’s home lives, from the bits and pieces Stan had told them over dinners and things. They knew, Ben had a complicated relationship with his mother, though Stan had never went into any more detail about what that meant, Mike’s father had just got diagnosed with cancer, Beverley’s father was abusive, Bill’s parents were mentally checked out for the last 5 years, Richie’s parents weren’t that much more involved than Bill’s and Eddie’s mom was... well, Eddie’s mom. So they prided themselves on giving their son the most normal upbringing out of his group of friends. They would much rather have a gay son, than a son that resented them. And they would keep their theories to themselves until Stan felt comfortable telling them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And almost as if on queue, the doorbell rang, and Mr and Mrs Uris shared a knowing smile as they watched Stan’s demeanour change immediately, as he excitedly opened the door. They didn’t quite know why Stan chose to spend so much time with Bill. He was a good boy, who was growing into a good young man, and they liked him a lot but... they couldn’t help but think they looked a bit odd together. Not that they would say that to them, though. Bill was quite a bit taller than Stan, he stood at 6’2 while Stan had stopped growing at around 5’8. Bill was skinny, tall and lanky, but covered himself in oversized flannels and shirts. He was the quintessential ‘grunge stereotype’ of the early 1990s, just as much as his best friend Richie was the quintessential ‘mall goth stereotype’ of the early 1990s. They were basically the Jenny Jones Show’s worst nightmare. Bill was as grunge as you could get in the 1990s, complete with an obsession with his idol, Kurt Cobain. He tried to dress like him, write poems like him, all of that. If you didn’t know who Nirvana was, Bill was sure to tell you all about them. He painted his nails red like he did, and whenever someone asked if he sometimes wore smudged eyeliner to be like Richie, he would always scoff and tell them he was trying to be like Kurt. But, Stan’s parents didn’t know what any of that meant, so they thought that Bill was the only boy in the world who dressed and acted like that but... they guessed if that’s what Stanley liked than, they’d come to accept it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bill!!!-“ He said happily, he wanted to hug him so badly, and burry his face in his chest as he hugged him back. But, he remembered his parents were in the same room, so he adjusted his tone. “Hi Bill,” He repeated, and Bill laughed, and said hello back. They said ‘I love you’ with their gazes, and in between their pauses, and that’s all that mattered. “Gosh, Stan- you aren’t even going to invite him in? Shabbat Shalom, William!!” His father spoke, gesturing for him to come in. Stan already cringed at the use of his full name, Bill laughed, and thanked them kindly. “Hi, Mr and Mrs Uris, don’t worry, Bill is fine!” He told them, for probably the millionth time, Bill fidgeted with his fingers and picked at the red polish on his nails, as he did when things got a bit awkward. He looked over to Stan, “Can I say Shabbat Shalom back? Or is that rude ‘cause I’m not jewish?” He asked with a genuine concern, and Stan looked up at him sweetly, falling deeper and deeper in love with his kindness. “Of course you can, William!” His father answered for him, and Stan thought that if he called him William one more time, he’d die of embarrassment right on the spot. But Bill didn’t seem to mind, though, he loved Stan’s parents despite them always embarrassing his boyfriend to no end. “Stanley, you have all your things, right?” She asked as if he was 8 years old, and Bill and Stan shared a knowing look for just a moment, so it wasn’t observed by anyone else. They both knew damn well that what they had planned was not going to require much clothes but.. they obviously weren’t going to let them in on that secret. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan simply nodded, he knew he would probably snap and say something about his mom embarrassing him so he chose not to speak at all, he knew his mom meant well. It was just... hard to know that sometimes. “Why don’t you sit and stay, you’re always welcome in this house!!” His mother graciously offered, getting up and sitting next to her husband on the adjacent couch, so Bill and Stan could sit together. Bill’s heart melted at the gesture, he often told Stan that he felt more welcome there than at his own house. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan’s mother knew that too, so she always tried to make him feel like he could call their house home. “Oh, it’s okay. But thank you so much, though, we really have to get going-“ Stan said, trying to usher them both out of the door but Bill didn’t get the hint. “Next time, I will. Definetly. I cant wait!!” He promised, smiling from ear to ear; and Stan knew that he meant it. That was going to be an embarrassing night if he ever had one- but, he tried not to focus too much on that. He focused on the night that awaited him, and tried to look on the positive- his parents liked his boyfriend, and his boyfriend liked them; he couldn’t dream of better circumstances, right? Even if they didn’t know that he was his boyfriend quite yet, maybe if they liked him... that would make the coming out process easier, he hoped so anyways. Stan said good bye to his parents, and pulled Bill out of his house before he could make any other future plans that Stan would have to go that involved him, Bill and his family. They had a running inside joke between the two of them that he’d probably convert to Judaism if his parents asked him to- and he wanted to get him out of his house before that joke became reality. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two boys had settled comfortably on the couch in Bill’s living room, and had been that way for hours; enjoying each other’s company. They needed the comfort the other gave them, they wished it could be this way all the time. Bill liked being sat on the couch, cozily with Stan. He barely was on the main floor of the house anymore, because the ghosts of his parents haunted it, and made it feel more like a graveyard than a house, a graveyard where pleasantries and good conversations went to die. Their downstairs was a mausoleum of when time used to be good, it felt weird to be down here with them. They claimed this area as their own. He stayed shut in his room for most of his time at home, not wanting to bother his parents and not wanting his parents to bother him. This was nice though. Stan could make his house feel like a home. Bill had turned the TV on, and had been watching hockey, but it was mostly just background noise now. Neither one were really paying attention. It was a Hartford Whalers game, and they were playing the Montreal Canadiens- or as Stan knew them, the guys in the red jerseys. He wasn’t into hockey by any means, his eyes just darted to the television screen every so often to see what Bill was reacting to. But, for the most part, Bill was hardly reacting, he was more invested in watching Stan; which Stan took as a huge compliment. He knew he must’ve meant a great deal to him if it meant he wasn’t as focused on watching his favourite sport, as not much could do that. He tended to get very emotionally invested in a game, few things could keep him from getting that way- and Stan guessed he was one of the few things. Stan couldn’t have been happier than he was in that moment. He was sitting comfortably on Bill’s lap, nestled between his strong arms and cozy blankets, listening to Bill read him something he’d been working on lately, being lulled by the smooth octave of the way he was speaking. He nuzzled into the soft fabric of his oversized, worn in flannel shirt, and was deeply interested in what Bill was saying. He always made sure that he read him his stories, his boyfriend not only had a gift for writing stories, but he also had a great gift of story telling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He could get you so invested in his stories, and Stan could listen to him read his writings all day; in fact, that would be the ideal way to spend a day. His boyfriend truly was extremely talented, and that was one of the many things he loved about him. He deeply admired him for it, too. It was inspiring that he could take traumatic events from his life, and make something beautiful and compelling from them, and turn them into tragic works of art. He seemed to get better and better with everything he wrote, and he never missed an opportunity to tell him that. He’d been reading his works to him since they were little kids, and he knew he’d never get tired of it. He loved that Bill trusted him with such intimate looks at his thoughts, feelings and healing process like this. Bill concluded the 6th chapter of the short story he’d read to him from his notebook, and set it on the coffee table he rest his feet on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, what did ya think?” Bill asked, already reading the look on Stan’s face, he knew he loved it, but, he wanted to hear him say it. Bill had always read his stories to Stanley, ever since they were little kids. Stan was always the first to hear his first drafts, and hear them develop into stories of substance. Stan felt weightless, he felt no greater bliss than when Bill held him close, and when he started to run his fingers through his soft curls. He felt like he was melting into the broad shoulders of his boyfriend as his cheeks started to grow hot. “I loved it!!” Stan praised, but his voice grew hazier the longer Bill’s breath lingered against his skin. He tried to calm the arousal pooling in his abdomen, he really hoped that Bill couldn’t tell he was starting to grow hard. He felt a bit silly, all that it took for him to get aroused was being in his arms for a long time- but, he tried not to dwell on any of this. He knew it wasn’t all his fault, he was a touch starved succubus- this was his new way of life he supposed. “That really is so good, you really are so talented...” He sighed, his voice was softer, and slightly wavering, and he hoped that it didn’t give away his arousal. His eyes fell half lidded, and was thankful Bill couldn’t see that. Bill buried his face in the back of his neck as he held onto him tighter, wrapping his arms around his slender waist, and pulling him all the more closer. Stan sighed with contentment into his lover’s touch, he squeezed his thighs together, and tried to calm himself down, and hoped his boyfriend couldn’t feel how hard he was on top of him. “Baby doll...” Bill whispered against the sensitive skin of his neck, Stan couldn’t help but hold back a whine at the pet name he loved so much, but he let that whine escape his lips, at the feeling of one of Bill’s hands leave his waist, and trailing down to touch his thigh. He traced aimless patterns into the plush skin there, dangerously close to his member that was needing to be touched, with urgency that increased by the second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He was such a tease, wether he knew that or not. His mind wandered to dirtier places, and Bill was definetly not helping. His hand touching his thigh, grabbing the skin there like he owned him; and not to mention the soft kisses against the skin of his neck, peppering them there aimlessly, all while whispering to him softly, all the names Stan loved to be called. He was doing all of his favourite things, and Stan couldn’t help but grow hard, his cock starting to leak with precum. Bill’s tongue jutted out between kisses, licking the soft flesh, now a bit salty with sweat. He bit at his flesh, softly, savouring the groan that escaped Stan’s lips as his teeth sunk into his beautiful flesh, sucking lovebites into the olive skin that lay beneath his mouth. He let out more delicious whines he loved so much, withering away in his lap. His cheeks heated with anticipation and a bit of embarrassment, he wanted Bill so badly right now... he hoped he couldn’t tell just how much he was enjoying this. Until suddenly, his lips left his neck, and his voice was no longer a whisper of terms of endearment, he was concerned. “Is everything okay, baby? You tensed up there for a second,” Bill asked, and Stan wanted to laugh. He didn’t tense up because he wasn’t enjoying it; he clenched his thighs together to conceal his arousal, because he was enjoying it too much. “‘M fine, I’m just a bit hot... from all of these blankets,” Stan lied to save face, his voice high pitched and desperate, a dead giveaway of how aroused he was. Bill felt reassured, his hand found its way back to his thigh, and his lips inched closer to his neck again, “Aww, princess. Do you want some water or something... lemme take care of you while you’re here...” He cooed, and Stan whined desperately, “N-no thanks, I’m fine,” He politely declined, Bill chuckled darkly against his skin, “Youre too cute...” he praised, before sucking another purple mark into his lover’s quivering skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After awhile of trembling in his arms while Bill kissed and sucked hickeys into the back of Stan’s neck, Stan missed him. Yes, he knew that it was odd to miss someone who he was literally cuddling with at that moment, but, he missed seeing his face. He turned around, looking into the familiar, warm eyes; warm in the sense of kindness, icy blue in colour and intensity. Eyes that he felt exceptance in, eyes that complimented every aspect of him without saying a word. He gazed into them, and he knew that his best form, was the one reflected in those big blue eyes, and made a mirror look like nothing. “Hi....” Bill mused, smiling, closing the gap between their lips drastically but not entirely. The anticipation was his favourite part of kissing Stan, the buildup, the loving gazes, the way his breath ghosted against his lips; all made kissing his soft lips all the more sweeter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi...” Stan whispered back, smiling too, his softly spoken tone was in an effort to conceal the lust that was no doubt still oozing from his voice. Everything about Bill intoxicated him, he wanted him so badly, it wouldn’t surprise him if Bill could literally see that want radiate from him. He was glad Bill wasn’t a succubus too, and couldn’t detect lust as he could, because undoubtably, the lust radiating from him right now would be embarrassing. Stan giggled, it was his turn to trace patterns, his fingers wandering aimlessly over Bill’s broad chest, covered with plaid fabric and an old band shirt. Stan was equally as intoxicating, and Bill grew dizzier every second he knew his touch. “Don’t forget me when you’re a famous writer” he played up his innocence a bit in his voice now, he loved that he could pretend with Bill. Because, truly, that’s how Bill saw him, as an innocent angel who could do no wrong. But, Stan knew that that was the furthest thing from the truth, but, it was still nice to have someone look at him with the untainted, undying love that he felt he didn’t deserve. Bill smiled, kissing his jawline softly, but never getting up to his lips, or even teasingly at his cheek. He was great at the dance that was anticipation. He looked at him with a fondness he’d never looked at anyone with. He never just looked at Stan, it was always an adoration, he adored Stan. He adored how small he loved in his lap, how pure and innocent he was looking up at him, the soft mewls he let slip every time Bill even came close to him. “How am I gonna ever forget you? Your name will be in all my book dedications,” Bill smirked against his skin, and that made Stan giggle a bit more. “Oh, really?” Stan asked, playing into the fantasy of what life would be like once they were all grown up. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t daydream about it. Growing up with Bill, and then to grow old with Bill seemed only natural. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He couldn’t wait to go off to university with Bill, preferably all of the other losers, but as long as he’d have Bill it would be great enough. He looked forward to getting a house with him, and maybe one day even marrying him if it ever became legal for same sex couples to get married. He hoped he’d be in Bill’s life long enough to see his books be published, and get to be by his side when he finally got noticed for his work, the same work Stan had been praising and complimenting for years. Bill smirked, and played along too, but, was speaking with the fullest sincerity. He was being 100% serious, he had every intention to do what he said. “Of course, really. Yah, it’s gonna say, “To my loving husband, Stanley Denbrough’ in the front of every single one of my books” He smiled proudly as he read that off, and Stan couldn’t help but blush. It didn’t feel rehearsed, it felt preplanned; as if he’d thought about this before. “Nice ring to it, but, I’m gonna take your last name?” Stan joked, he’d never thought about that before. Not to say that he didn’t like the thought of that, though. He very much enjoyed the thought of being the future Mr Denbrough. He always thought it was so stereotypically feminine to daydream of such things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> But, in his experience, and in his friend group, gender rolls had been flipped on their head so many times, those sort of stereotypes weren’t something he subscribed to anymore. The things he and Eddie did and talked about were much more feminine than what Bev did- and she actually was a female. The more time they all spent together, the more they realized that if they could fight a demon clown- they could fight societal expectations too. So, if normal childhoods didn’t have a place in their lives, neither did gender rolls. And the more he tried how Stan Denbrough sounded on his tongue, he liked it even more, and he felt stupid for dismissing something so cliche before. It felt good to be cliche every now and then, he wanted to be 12 again, and doodle S+B in little hearts over his notebooks again, just for the hell of it. “I dunno, its what girls do...” Bill mused, closing the gap a bit more, savouring how their hot breaths collided against each other’s lips as they savoured the anticipation, almost drowning in it. Stan gasped with fake offence, “‘m not a girl..” he protested, with a fake pout tugging at his lips now, playing up his innocence in a way he knew drove his boyfriend crazy in the best way. Bill played along too, “You might not be a girl, but, you are still my princess,” He closed the gap now, kissing him softly. Stan whined against his lips, that was his favourite thing to be called, he trembled against his boyfriend’s harsh grip, which was a sharp contrast to how gingerly he was kissing him- at first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill gripped his hips possessively, keeping him exactly where he wanted him to be. Their lips connected sweetly, softly, savouring each other every second they could. He devoured every sigh, mewl and moan he could get out of Stan, he was always so eager for him. He took the opportunity his moans provided, and jutted his tongue between the gap of his two lips, and Stan wholeheartedly let him inside. Bill loved the sweet flavour of his mouth, lapping his tongue over every inch of it as he exploded it. Stan sucked at his tongue in a way that was so needy, it almost made Bill laugh, he really did need him bad. And at this point, Stan was too far gone to care about hiding that anymore. He had a need coursing through his body that was at this point, inhuman, because he himself was inhuman. He couldn’t take this anymore, he rubbed himself against Bill’s thigh, nibbling his lovers lip at the feeling of friction. He desperately clawed at his back, his silently needy way of begging for more while his mouth was occupied. He whined at the feeling of friction, but his desperately hard cock craved more, he felt precum leaking from his tip. Bill kissed him back harder, kissing him so hard he was sure his lips could bruise, Stan being this desperate drove him insane. His groans and whimpers were a melody he couldn’t get out of his head, they were intoxicating, they were bewitching. Bill could equate them to a sirens song, they did things to him he couldn’t explain. Bill noticed what Stan was doing, and slid a hand down his waist, and onto his thigh, gripping it harshly. He dug his fingers into it in a way where Stan knew that would leave marks, he whimpered at the pain he craved, finally inching towards the satisfaction he needed. He held his thigh there, in a way that somewhat prevented him from grinding against Bill’s thigh. Bill pulled away at the same time, leaving Stan breathless and even more desperate. Bill looked at how beautiful he looked, his eyes devoid of anything except unmistakable lust, his lips swollen and slick with spit, he was a beautiful mess. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill couldn’t wait to mess him up even more. Stan whined at the loss of contact, rolling his hips in search of any feeling he could maybe get, and gripped at Bill’s flannel to pull him closer, but, to no avail. “And you certainly are a slut...” Bill whispered, continuing his train of thought before they started kissing. He whispered teasingly against his lip, staring at them hungrily as he spoke. Stan grew more aroused at the degrading nature of his words, shifting uncomfortably in the seat he took on Bill’s lap. “-’m not a slut...” He whined, his whines turning into moans as Bill’s strong hands stroked circles into the pudge of his thighs. It felt nice, but, he craved that attention elsewhere on his body, though. He was still grinding his hips against his thigh, letting high pitched pants out of his mouth at the barely-there pleasure. That wasn’t exactly helping his case. Bill was almost amused at how eager he was to work for something, anything, his mouth fell open and let such faint and obscene noises at barely anything. He needed it so bad, and he was certainly going to have his fun working him up. “You’re such a fucking slut... you get so hard... from just kissing me... grinding against my thigh too...” He spoke, excentuating his pauses by sucking at the skin of his neck. He left lovebites there sloppily, just with the intention of making a point, not to stay there for awhile. The noises he made against his neck, right by his ear where he could hear them all too well, were exaggerated and obscene on purpose, and they weren’t helping Stanley at all. He couldn’t help but groan at them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, you want me, huh?” Bill asked huskily, his tremor in his voice was no longer sweet and caring, it was dark and hungry- and it made Stan want him so much more. Drool dripped down his chin as he whimpered, his mouth still open from panting over the little bit of friction he got from barely being able to rub against his boyfriend’s thigh. He was more so getting off to the fact he couldn’t get off, that his boyfriend wasn’t letting him; his big, strong hands holding his weak hips in place. He looked like such a mess, and fuck was it driving Bill insane, he looked so debauched, especially with his chin shining with a sheen of saliva. “I want you so badly it hurts...” Stan admitted, his face heating up with embarrassment, he knew in that moment how much of a slut he sounded like. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, not wanting to see the cocky smirk that was no doubt on Bill’s face at that moment, proud of himself he could get such a confession out of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That peaked his interest, and he let out a groan of his own at his boyfriend’s filthy confession. “Where does it hurt you, baby?” He cooed, and Stan whined and clenched his thighs together, trying his hardest to suppress his arousal. His boyfriends words going straight to his erection. He was too shy to answer. He loved that he could he shy again, his boyfriend didn’t treat him like a monster, he could be shy, he could be vulnerable, he could be condescended to. He craved the normality of it all, he liked to be able to be his little slut, and be cared for in that submissive role. He felt like he had way too much power over people now, so much so to the point it became overwhelming, nearly breaking him daily. It felt amazing to give some of that power up, and to be able to be talked so sweetly and degradingly to, all at the same time. Bill stroked the inside of his thighs, trying to cox an answer out of him. He shivered as his hands got closer and closer to his hard cock, and Bill fought back the urge to growl possessively at that cute reaction- his boyfriend was just so adorable, sometimes too adorable. “C’mon, princess. You need to tell me where or else I can’t help you feel better. Use my hand to show me where it hurts if you can’t say...” Stan looked up at him, with big, pleading, brown eyes, and grabbed his relaxed hand. He brought it to his own clothed member, mewling at the touch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It hurts me here...” Stan whimpered, he looked and sounded so innocent, Bill drowned in how much love washed over him as the words left his mouth in such a pleading tone. He wanted to give in to him, but he just sounded so cute like this... he didn’t want that to end either. “It hurts me so bad Bill.. I want you so bad...” He continued, biting his lip as he pressed Bill’s hand to his member harder. He exhaled softly, touching himself with his boyfriend’s hand. He rubbed up against his fingers, fucking himself into his hand, Bill was tantalized by how pretty he looked like this, he was such a mess and Bill hadn’t even done anything to him yet. Bill didn’t hold him in place as hard, and relaxed his grip ever so slightly. But, Stan took that inch and got a mile out of pleasure out of it, moaning at the knew feeling. He ground his hips against his thigh, while touching himself with his hand, his head leaning back and pants came from his lips obscenely, and Bill just leaned back and watched. He too was growing hard now, just watching Stan want it so bad. Stan knew he probably looked like a slut, but he didn’t even care at this point, knowing that Bill was watching him crave being touched so desperately, watch him fuck himself into his hand, was so worth it. He whimpered Bill’s name, gripping his wrist tighter as he rubbed Bill’s hand against his tented pants. Bill felt how hard he was as Stan used his hand over and over, but, still offered him no help, and his release was still far away, his hand stay relaxed, as he amused himself by watching Stan do all the work. “That’s it princess, fuck yourself on my hand, cum in your pants like the slut you are...” Bill murmured, which made Stan only grind against his thigh harder in response, rolling his hips to get all he could out of it. Bill couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to see his hard cock that ached to be touched so badly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan mewled as he felt Stan unzip his zipper, pulling his shorts and his boxers down his slim hips, and Stan was eager to help him get them off the rest of this thighs and legs. He kicked them off, and loved the sound of them hitting the floor. He also loved how exposed he felt. He was so on display, Bill lay there, fully clothed, while Stan was completely naked from the waist down, he grew addicted to the way Bill eyed him hungrily, and by the glean in his blue eyes that had darkened with lust, he liked what he saw too. “Spread your legs for me, darlin’, lemme look at you...” Bill cooed, and Stan shuddered at the crassness of his request, and the fact he spoke it with no shame. Bill pried his thighs apart with Stan’s help. His cock twitched whenever Stan felt Bill look at it, and Bill was shameless with his stares. He couldn’t help but want more to stare at.He raised his arms up, helplessly, for Bill to take his shirt off too. He didn’t mind infantilizing himself, because he knew that Bill loved to take care of him in that sort of way. Bill happily obliged, unbuttoning each of his buttons painfully slowly, to the point Stan was whining desperately for a change of pace. Bill only smiled devilishly, but didn’t give in. “So beautiful baby... you’re so fucking pretty,” He praised, love practically oozing from his sultry voice. He kissed every inch of skin that was exposed to him, kissing down, and down, and down until he got to the last button. “So pretty baby... ‘can’t believe you’re all mine,” He spoke, and Stan was so happy he was his. All he could do was moan, he was in bliss right now, all these compliments were going straight to his cock, now on display for his boyfriend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill couldn’t help but notice at how much precum had accumulated at his tip, his member was painfully hard and aching to be touched, Bill couldn’t help but admire how delicious he looked. “Fuck... you’re so wet... who made you this wet, hmm?” Stan quivered at his dirty words, he wasn’t sure why, but the feminization of his phrases always made him so aroused. He knew boys didn’t get ‘get wet’ and that boys probably shouldn’t like being told that but, he couldn’t help but moan at how good it made him feel to be spoken to like that. It felt so wrong it was right, it was obscene and it was filthy. “You did, you did Bill,” Stan moaned out, and Bill couldn’t help but admire how sexy his name sounded on his lips, especially when said in such a way. And he couldn’t help but notice the subtle pride mixed with a bit of embarrassment as he said that, he was embarrassed he had to say that, but proud that he was with him, and that he could be intimate with him in such a way. Bill pulled him close, and let his breath ghost against his chest, making it feel like he had butterflies in his stomach, Bill had such an effect on him. “God, youre such a slut for it, huh? I bet you want me to fuck you, hmm?” He cooed cockily, knowing damn well he was right. Stan nodded with desperate enthusiasm that only proved his point. “I can’t do that yet, baby... there’s no fun in that. But, I’ll help you cum, that sound good?” He bargained with false innocence, the cocky edge to his voice still very present. And still, Stan nodded just as desperately. He wanted Bill any way he could get him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He took Stan’s cock in his hand, pumping it softly, Stan relaxed in his touch, it felt so nice to be touched instead of having to work so hard for it. “Ahhhh... oh, Bill....” He whispered, barely above the volume of the TV that was still on, even though they didn’t even notice. They were both much too preoccupied by the show in front of each of them than anything that could possibly be on TV. Bill’s other hand ran teasingly up his stomach, to his chest, and toyed with a nipple. He rolled the sensitive bud between his fingertips, pinching at it, it all quickly became too much for Stan. “How’s it feel, baby?” Bill asked, taking his bud between his teeth now, putting the same amount of pressure on it. Stan found it hard to answer when he rolled his tongue over it, sucking lightly on it. Stan whimpered, “It feels so much better when you do it...” He spoke breathlessly, his voice conveying all the pleasure he was feeling, Bill smirked against the soft skin of his check. He released the hardened bud from his mouth, kissing his way across his chest, and sucking love bites into his skin along the way to his other one, taking that one between his teeth as well. Stan could only groan at the feeling of his lover’s skilled mouth on his skin. Bill did all of this while still maintaining a steady pace on his cock, his fingers still wrapped around it, but stoking quicker than before. Stan closed his eyes shut, letting pleasure consume and overwhelm him. Bill didn’t like that very much, he wanted Stan to watch him as he jerked him off. He bit down harshly at his bud, to show that. Stan fluttered his eyes open quickly, moaning in pain and pleasure at the feeling. He knew he probably wasn’t supposed to like getting bitten like that, getting hurt like that, but he did. That was something to discuss with Bill at another time though. “Keep your eyes open, doll. I want you to see me make a mess out of you,” He commanded roughly, and Stan nodded with obedient enthusiasm. He watched as Bill’s large hand skillfully worked up and down his cock, rubbing circles with his thumb into the head of his cock, he bit his lip. Watching it somehow made it all feel so much better. “Oh Bill... ‘m almost there,” Came Stan’s slurred warning, he was going to cum soon, but he knew that wouldn’t satisfy him completely. He had a burning desire now, much more heightened than it was before. He knew he needed Bill that night, again and again and again and again. “What are you, baby?” Bill asked, his words slow, but his hand on his cock was fast, eager to draw him to completion, eager to see the look on his face as absolute pleasure overtook him and he came. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a slut! I’m your little slut!! All I want is your cock inside of me... please, make me cum...” Stan spoke loudly through moans as his hips bucked. His end was so close, he just needed Bill’s permission to cum, he loved how Bill had that power over him when they were like this. Bill was blown away by the absolute filth that came out of his mouth, Stan was better than anything he could ever imagine- being with him was a dream. “Of course doll. Of course you can cum,” and as if it was perfectly timed, Stan came hard into Bill’s hand, spilling his seed all over his fingers. Bill stroked him through his orgasm, kissing his collarbones soothingly as he came back down from his high, quivering and panting with uneven breaths. Bill looked down at his hand, covered in his lover’s release. He held his fingers in front of Stan’s lips, still a bit swollen and slick with spit from their previous kissing. “Lick my hand clean for me, doll. I know you don’t love the taste of anyone else’s cum the way you love mine but... this’ll have to do,” Stan bit his lip to surprise a moan, his words were so filthy- but, they were also so very true, he couldn’t even say anything back. He took them into his mouth with an eagerness he was a bit ashamed to have, licking and sucking them clean. Bill was entranced by how well he took them, by the drool leaking out of his mouth onto his fingers, and his own cum seeping out the sides of his own lips. “Fuck... what a cumslut. So obedient, so good for me...” He praised, while at the same time degraded. Bill had that perfect combination that made Stan weak every time. He reached a hand out to run through his honey brown curls, stroking him fondly, and Stan felt so loved and appreciated in that moment. The praising gave Stan the encouragement and the enthusiasm to suck at his fingers harder, working them between his lips with filthy intent. Bill moaned at how good his tongue felt, how skilled his tongue was, “Let’s put that mouth to better use, hmm?” he asked, moaning a bit louder, his gentle strokes at Stan’s hair turned into possessive pulling. Stan looked at him with genuine confusion, not knowing exactly what he meant by that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I helped you get off, so you should do something for me, right? That’s only fair” Bill explained, biting his lip, remembering how good he was at sucking him off, and how adorable he looked on his knees for him. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the thought of it. Stan nodded with such eagerness, and Bill wondered if he wanted to suck him off more than Bill wanted him to. He really was such a cockslut. “That’s a good boy.., you’re such a good boy, baby. Get on your knees for me, princess, show me how badly you want it...” and Stan audibly groaned at the dirty talk and abundant use of pet names, he knew exactly what he liked to hear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan quickly got off Bill’s lap, and got on his knees on the hardwood floor beside the couch they sat on. Bill was impressed by his eagerness, and felt like rewarding him. He dropped his pants, and his boxers too, kicking them off to join Stan’s somewhere behind them. Bill watched Stan as he undressed, his eyes going wide, and he watched him subconsciously lick his lips at the sight of his boyfriend’s big, erect cock in his face. He held it in his own hand, tracing the head of his cock over Stan’s soft lips. He smeared his precum over his lips, it looked like lipgloss in a way. He was impressed by how restrained he was, he knew to only take him into his mouth when he was told to do so, he had trained him so well. And Stan didn’t break their eye contact once, he knew Bill loved to see the look in his eyes when he face fucked him. Bill smiled fondly at him, stroking his lover’s curls affectionately, he never thought he’d have someone look at him the way Stan did, and actually tremble because of how badly he wanted to suck his cock. He reached down, and grabbed Stan’s hand, tracing over his fingers endearingly, before wrapping his hand around his member. “Stroke what you won’t be able to fit in your mouth, we both know it’s too big for you.” Bill cooed, a remark to which Stan eyerolled at. “It’s too big for anyone..” He mumbled under his breath, and Bill didn’t exactly know what he meant by that. He didn’t know if he meant he had a big cock in general- or if that was just something he said to defend himself and his cocksucking abilities. Either way, Bill took that as a compliment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Licking, only.” Bill told him, sternly, and Stan knew exactly what he meant by that. He licked stripes up and down his hard cock, swirling his tongue around his head, and then the rest of his length. Licking at his balls, and then long licks from base to tip, patiently waiting for Bill to let him take him into his mouth fully. He couldn’t believe Bill had convinced him that getting to properly suck him off was a reward for him, not himself but- here Stan was, believing that wholeheartedly. He ran a hand along his own dick as he stroked Bill’s off, but Bill reached down to swat his hand away, warningly. “Don’t jerk yourself off, if you do, I won’t let you suck me off. And we know that a cockslut like you wouldn’t like that? Right?” And as much as it was embarrassing to admit, he was right. He nodded, and whispered an apology. His hand snaked away from his own cock, letting it go unattended. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill couldn’t get over how incredibly arousing it was, that Stan was so turned on by sucking him off, he wanted to jerk off to it. That made Bill feel really good about himself, wether Stan intended for that to be the reaction or not. Stan pressed kisses to his length, an act he knew Bill was head over heels for, it made him feel very loved and cared for. “I’ll let you s-suck me off now.” Bill decided, rewarding him for how well he’d listened to his instructions and commands. Stan took note of the octave change. He was starting to lose his cool himself. Stan took as much of him as he could fit into his mouth, his boyfriend’s cock was so long and so thick, he loved how it choked him, he loved how it made his mouth stretch a bit uncomfortably. Everything about his boyfriend was so big. Bill let out a string of moans at the feeling of him following his cheeks around him, timing his head bobs with the movements of his hand. “So good...” He could barely get out a sentence anymore, fuck, Stan was good at taking cock. His words were barely comprehensible to either of them anymore as he praised him, adoring the way his mouth stretched on his member. He ran a shaky hand through his hair again, grabbing it by the root forcefully, and Stan as always, loved the sting of the pull. He moaned at the feeling of his hair being pulled, sending vibrations across Bill’s dick that felt fucking incredible.  “Fuck... can I, baby?” Bill asked, hoping Stan would know what he meant, and he wouldn’t have to struggle to say anything else, knowing damn well anything he said from that point wouldn’t make sense. And, Stan did know what he meant. He nodded enthusiastically, and Bill gripped onto his hair harder. He fucked himself into Stan’s mouth, over and over again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He was so proud of Stan for suppressing his gag reflex, feeling his throat close around him as he fucked deeper and deeper into his mouth felt unbelievably amazing. But, he’d have to tell him later, because if he even tried to now, the words wouldn’t be words- they’d be moans and groans. Stan moaned loudly too, he loved being used like this, he loved having Bill hurt him. It made him feel things he’d never felt before, it made him feel lust, it made him also feel shame. Because it wasn’t something you were supposed to want, and he figured it wasn’t something that Bill wanted to do to him anyways. Maybe he wouldn’t tell Bill about this later, he still wasn’t sure. But, he knew telling Bill he had a pain kink wasn’t the worst thing he had to tell him right now, so he’d try not to think about it. Stan’s eyes started watered at the stretch, his gag reflex was suppressed but, not entirely. And there was something so strangely hot about that, to Stan. He couldn’t quite figure out why but... there was something so arousing about the fact his cock was so big it hurt his boyfriend to suck it but, that was a thought for a later day, he’d unpack that baggage later. Little did they both know, one of them liked to be hurt, and the other liked to hurt- if only they’d just tell each other that. But, it took them over 10 years to work up the nerve to tell each other they were in love with the other, so, here’s to hoping it wouldn’t take another 10 years to have that conversion. “Fuck baby, you’re so beautiful like this... gonna cum soon,” Bill announced, through heavy pants. Stan nodded, indicating that that was okay. “I’d ask if I can cum on your face but... I know how much you love it in your mouth...” He mused, and Stan moaned, the dirty words went right to his cock as always. And that’s all that it took to bring Bill over the edge, the feeling of Stan moaning around his cock was indescribably good, combined with his watering brown eyes- he was in fucking heaven at that moment. He released all in Stan’s mouth, and Stan swallowed as much of it as he could, and was happy to do so. He loved the taste of Bill’s cum so so much, more than he would’ve cared to admit. He moaned at the taste, and at the feeling of it slide down his throat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill ran his hand through Stan’s hair, at a more loving, slower pace. He caught his breath as he regrouped himself after he came. He thanked him and praised him a million times over as he caught his breath. “Open up, let me see my seed in that pretty little mouth of yours,” He commanded, forcing his thumb into his mouth and prying it open, Stan opened it, and felt a bit embarrassed to be on display like that, but it was an embarrassment he adored. Bill remembered suddenly that the game was still on, and probably just about to finish. He also realized Stan could probably see the TV from where he was kneeling down, he didn’t want to look back and see. He wanted to keep looking at Stan for as long as he could, his eyes glued to the work of art on his knees in front of him, “What’s the score?” He asked, his thumb still in his mouth, tracing the outline of his lips softly, but still with a distinct possessiveness. Stan scoffed, “I don’t know, I was kind of busy...” and Bill laughed at his reply, “Red guys are winning,” He replied, speaking around his thumb, his tongue hitting the pad of his finger ever so slightly every once and awhile depending on what letter he was saying. And he looked far too pretty to even explain what the team was called, or to even bother asking any follow up questions to which Stan wouldn’t know the answer to, so, he dropped it. He was a bit pissed his team wasn’t winning, though. “You’ve been such a good boy, baby, as always... I’m gonna give you what you’ve been wanting, come on, get on the couch,” He told him, and Stan was so happy, to say he was overjoyed would not be an exaggeration. He was FINALLY going to get fucked for real. He wanted it so bad, he was near tears, and literally quivering to be touched. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What position do you want me in?” He asked before getting up, and Bill smiled, as he took his thumb out of his mouth, fuck, had he trained him well. “That’s my princess... you’re so good. Any way you want to be, sweets,” He told him, and Stan finally got up, and layer on his back on the couch. Bill couldn’t help but be a bit sad to see him get off of his knees, he was so fucking pretty like that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill straddled him, and he changed his opinion. He looked really pretty like this too. They both groaned as their members touched. Bill quickly took his flannel shirt off, and the t shirt he was wearing underneath, dropping it to the ground, discarding it with their other articles of clothing. Stan stared at him wide eyed, but, it was the good kind of staring. He was admiring him, and Bill loved it so, so much when Stan looked at him that way. He came alive under that sort of loving gaze, sort of how a plant came alive under the light of the sun. He wanted to bask in it, that’s how good it was. Stan was touched starved, but Bill was everything starved, and Stan was more than happy to give him what he needed. And sadly, most of the time, all he needed was a kind look and an affectionate gaze, and it broke Stan’s heart that that’s all he needed. So, he ALWAYS overcompensated, and gave Bill so much more than what he thought he needed. And if what he needed was for him to call himself a slut, then so fucking be it. He kissed down his chest, he couldn’t help but tease him slightly. He started at his collarbones, making his way down his body, until he was at his waist. Sucking a few hazy lovebites into his skin, just for affect. Stan thought for a moment he was going to kiss all the way down to his cock, which, would be nice but- he NEEDED to be fucked right now. He was almost a bit happy when Bill brought his head up, and removed the rest of his shirt, only because it meant he was a bit closer to getting properly fucked. Don’t get him wrong, he still really wanted oral, just... not yet. And he would get it, just... not yet.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan was weak with anticipation, and Bill knew that. He’d been so, so very good to him, he knew he needed to reward that. No anticipation, no waiting, he was going to fuck his boyfriend so hard his neighbours would hear him scream his name. Of course, that was only an expression- he really didn’t want to put himself in that way, that would be very, embarrassing. That was a cool fantasy for straight people to have, not two 17 year olds in the closet in Derry, in the middle of whogivesashit county, Maine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill brought his fingers to his boyfriend’s lips for the second, and hopefully, not the last, time that night. Stan moaned around them, he was so, so ready. He worked them over in his mouth, quickly but efficiently. He got them as slick and as wet as possible, and released them. “Somebody’s eager...” Bill whispered, and Stan nodded eagerly. He clutched at the cloth fabric beneath him and nothing had even happened yet. He was so ready for this, and, he was already so hard from sucking him off earlier, he needed to be fucked. Now. And Bill knew that, he needed to fuck him nearly as badly as he needed to be fucked by him. Which, was saying a lot, considering he wasn’t possessed by any satanic deity that heightened his sex drive, unlike Stan was. He slid two fingers into his hole, he knew that Stan was in no mood to be teased with the slow, easy thrusts of one finger at first. He was too hungry, he needed more. Bill working them in and out, in and out, in and fucking out- Stan knew he wouldn’t last long already. Stan already started to wither underneath him, thrusting his hips in time with Bill’s trying to get as much pleasure as possible out of this, like the little slut they both knew that he was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Bill slid in a third finger, and Stan welcomed that familiar stretch. He groaned at it, knowing that the real thing was coming soon. Bill got him used to that for awhile, before pulling his fingers out. And, as much as he hated that feeling of emptiness after being stretch, Stan grew to not mind it now, at least not in that moment. He was so excited, it meant he’d get his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out instead, and that stretched him out better than fingers ever could. Bill aligned himself with his needy hole, and slid his tip in, he kissed his neck softly as he entered him. Stan curled his toes, and grabbed onto the blankets beneath him as his lover sunk into him deeper. Bill took his boyfriend’s hard cock in his hand, wanting to overstim him into an orgasm, Stan always made the prettiest sounds when he was overstimulated. Stan groaned deliciously at the feeling of Bill’s hand hazily stroke his cock, and groaned even louder when Bill suddenly bottomed out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good... it’s like you were made to take my fucking cock...” Bill mused obscenely, pulling out just to slam back in. Stan felt like he was in a heaven he didn’t deserve to be in as Bill timed his thrusts to his strokes of his cock, that always made him come to his end so quickly. His thrusts hit him every way just right, always hitting his prostate dead on, he didn’t know wether he was going to cry from pleasure or faint- or both. All three of those options had happened multiple times. Stan cried out Bill’s name over and over again as his thrusts got harder and harder, sometimes Bill interrupted him with hard kisses to his lips, compelled to kiss him when he said his name so sinfully. They moaned into each other’s open mouths, and fuck was that erotic. “Do you deserve this???”  Bill asked, biting his lip to suppress a few groans of his own, so he could get the words out, and Stan was so fucking turned on because of how he was speaking to him, he couldn’t even think to say anything else besides the first thing that came to him,“I don’t deserve this.. thank you for giving it to me anyways... oh gosh...” He cried out, it felt weird to say god now, especially in such a context. He was possessed by something that was the furthest thing from God, and thus he was an extension of that distance. Bill’s hips bucked, taking Stan by surprise, Bill kissed him one last time before he came, using his free hand to hold his before he did. He could think of nothing else to say, and say nothing else, “Je t'aime, mon ange,” he whispered in his ear, lustfully, while still having an unmistakable adoration. He released into Stan’s tight hole without any warning, he usually wasn’t the first one to cum so this was a different experience for Stan. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan moaned at the feeling of cum filling every inch of him up, and the feeling of it leak down his thigh. He fucked himself against Bill’s spent cock, that was still in the process of releasing the entirety of his cum, and he clenched around it as he came. He sobbed as he came, thats how amazing it felt. Bill took in the beauty that was Stan’s orgasm, loving the way his lover looked as pleasure and satisfaction overwhelmed him, in the most intimate, carnal way. He felt so lucky Stan chose him to be the one to make him feel that good. Stan grabbed onto his hand tighter, as he released over Bill’s hand, who was still jerking him off. He almost saw stars as he came back from his immense and intense high of euphoria, that’s how good it felt, and that’s how much he needed it. He caught his breath, and though it was difficult, and hard to make out through his panting and moans that he still needed to get out of his system, he needed to say it wether Bill could understand him or not. “I love you,” He whispered. And as always, Bill did understand him, and neither one of them let go of the other’s hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill caught his breath, and reached for the tissue box on the other end of the coffee table, and wiped Stan’s cum off of his fingers. He much preferred the usual method of getting Stan to lick it off but, he was too busy catching his breath to be bothered right now. He just sat and admired Stan as he cleaned himself off, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he took, watch him pant, watch his cheeks continue to blush like the colour of roses in full bloom, but much prettier. He rooted through the pile of clothes to find what was his, and he put his flannel back on, and his boxers, not bothering with the rest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> His flannel was big, oversized and comfy, and he left the buttons undone, figuring he’d probably need to be stripped many more times that night, he could hope so, at least. Stan slowly sat up, and Bill kissed his forehead, his skin slick with spit and disheveled hair, it was a rare sight to see. Usually his hair wasn’t so messy, it was a cute look for him, a look he never got to see. His skin seemed to almost glow under the blush that still occupied it, and he looked delectable with hickies still covering nearly every area it was easy to leave them. He thought he’d get half hard just looking at him in such a way. Bill was the first one of them to speak. “That was... amazing,” He spoke, his voice still a bit raspy from being so loud from their previous activities. He smiled, “Of course it was,” Was all Stan could reply, still trying to catch his breath. He was almost there, but still, not entirely. His voice was even raspier, and fuck, did Bill think that it was sexy. Bill looked at him with a happy perplexity look on his face, he didn’t know what he meant by that, but was still so happy and still on cloud nine he wasn’t rational enough to think he could’ve ever meant that in a negative way, which is how his brain usually perceived things if he didn’t understand them at first. “Of course it was amazing... things like that with you are always amazing,” Stan praised him, kissing his cheek. He found his own set of clothes, only putting his underwear and shirt back on as well, but he actually did the buttons up. He didn’t think he could pull it off the same way Bill could. Bill looked effortlessly attractive, devil may care mixed with “I just got laid” combined with the cockiness of “and I don’t even care enough to do the buttons up, because I know my boyfriend is going to want to get fucked again”. Stan felt that he’d look like a half dressed slob, so he did the buttons up- or more accurately, batted his eyelashes and pouted so Bill would do it for him. Maybe the infantilizing wasn’t just for Bill’s sake... maybe, just maybe, he liked to be taken care of to. He liked Bill treating him like he was worth caring for, that he needed protection, like he was breakable. It was a nice break from the indestructible, bloodthirsty demon he had accidentally become. He sighed lovingly as Bill kissed him silly, throwing in a compliment and/or pet name every time his lips left his skin. His skin definitely glowed now, but not because he was fully nourished. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> The happiness Bill gave him was no doubt strong enough to literally radiate out of him. For that moment, they were happy. Their outside struggles and fears and worries didn’t matter, it didn’t exist. All that mattered, was what was going on between them, in Bill’s quiet house, alone. The outside world could be kept at bay for just a little while, and their problems could wait as well. Because for now, they were happy. Plain, and simple. Elated and overjoyed, as the tide of ecstasy washed over them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You like it when I speak to you that way, right?” Bill asked anxiously, out of nowhere he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Stanley meant the entire world, and then some, to him, he didn’t want to ever cross a boundary or anything like that. Now, it was Stan’s turn to look at him with a gaze of confusion, he didn’t know what he didn’t know what he had meant when he spoke. Bill saw that, and recognized that sort of look, he paused for a moment and collected his thoughts, hoping to explain himself a little bit better. “When I’m a bit... mean to you? You like that, right? I know you always say that you always do but.. I still feel like I have to ask again,” He explained, with a bit of a sheepish smile on his face. It was so endearing, Stan couldn’t help but love him even more. Bill really did love him, and that grew more and more apparent to Stan every day. He was so in love with him, he couldn’t even be a bit rude to him within the context of a kink- and kink Stan himself first brought up. He knew again and again, that he was truly so lucky to have Bill, and he learned that in so many moments, this was one of those many moments. Stan looked at him, his gaze changed, he wasn’t confused, he was lustful, he was hungry. “You have no idea how much I like it...” He spoke, a devious smile tugging at his lips. He inched closer to Bill, that same tone staying, if anything, it only intensified, and grew bolder. “In fact... let me show you how much I like it...” Bill felt reassured, and increasingly more aroused. But, it was not headed in the direction Bill’s mind thought it was going to. Stan got off of the couch, and his tone changed as quickly as it did the first time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> The devious smile tugging subtly at his lips was replaced with a toothy grin, and the tone of his voice was much happier, and jocundly affectionate. “By cooking dinner for the both of us!” He announced happily, and Bill could only sit back and smile at his lover fondly, he never ceased to amaze him. “Whatcha gonna make,” Bill asked, he knew Stan was a pretty good cook. He had mentioned before that his mom had taught him since he was a young child how to cook and how to bake, since he was the only child, his parents taught him things you’d teach to a son, and to a daughter. Stan knew a bit about how to do everything, which was one of his most endearing qualities, in Bill’s opinion (it was his most annoying quality, in Richie’s). He didn’t want Stan to go above and beyond when he didn’t have to, and he also didn’t want him using something he shouldn’t and get Bill in trouble when his parents found whatever ingredients he chose to use missing. He wasn’t supposed to have guests over, and his parents might not know him all that personally- but they certainly knew he didn’t cook so, he’d be in twice the amount of trouble. And, his parents were already skeptical of the amount of time they spent with Stan; the two times a year they talked to him about his friends, or on the very off chance they asked how he was going to spend a Saturday night. But, it wasn’t the endearing skepticism Stan’s parents had for it, it was a hateful skepticism. He knew his family wasn’t very fond of Stan in the first place, he could hear Sharon Denbrough’s voice clear as day, saying, “You better not make a habit out of hanging out with that Jewish boy in your class...” as if it was September 1981, the afternoon of the first day of school, when Stan and Bill walked home together for the first time, after the first day of school. And, he could hear Zachary Denbrough’s voice clear as day, as if he was speaking to him right there in front of him, “I already lost one of my sons, and my other son is as good as lost if I find out he’s a god damn queer,” he’d overheard him saying that to someone on the phone, once. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> And that marked as the last morning he’d ever considered telling his parents he was bisexual, and dating ‘That Jewish boy in his class’. Now, he either planned on writing them a letter when he was 18, letting their invitation to his wedding he his coming out, or- living the rest of his life as a straight man to his parents, and that Stan was just his other totally straight ‘roommate’. But, that was an allegory better saved for another time. Stan thought for a moment, and smiled, utterly clueless as to what to tell him. “Well, that all depends on what you have in your kitchen, Bill. All depends on what you have, and what whats kosher.” He told him happily, walking through the living room and into the attached kitchen. The attached kitchen was only disconnected by half of a wall so, they could still kind of talk. Bill sort of laughed at his response, “Well, Stan, we aren’t all sons of rabbi’s so... good luck finding any of that sort of thing in there,” Bill yelled, getting settled on the couch. “Yah, yah. You’ll be the son-in-law of one, someday. So you might as well get prepared. I’ll call you when it’s ready!” He said in a sing song type of voice. The game was long over, so he changed the channel and put on MTV, hoping to be able to see a Nirvana video play. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was happy to have someone like Stan, he thought was he waited. He couldn’t cook for the life of him, so if Stan wasn’t coming over, he’d probably just order pizza or eat ramen until his parents came back. Stan scoffed at the lack of response, entering the kitchen and looking around. If this was how married life could one day be with Bill... he still couldn’t wait for it. He had a surprise for him, too. No, it wasn’t anything involving the handcuffs... those were for later. This, was a whole other surprise.. a much sweeter one, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Bill waited, and waited. He was not a patient person, but, for Stan he would try his very best to be. He heard the clanging of pots and pans, and mixing bowls. And the beeping of oven and oven timers, but, he didn’t look. Stan told him he wanted it to be a surprise, so he let it be a surprise. His curiosity was now starting to get the better of him though, and he could smell a sugary sweet aroma emanating from the kitchen, he perked his head up to try and see what he was making but, to no avail. After a few more minutes of nearly an hour of waiting, Stan was finally finished. “Bill!! Dinner’s ready!!” Stan called to him, in a cheerfully sing song kind of a voice, but, was a bit worrisome too, as if he was a bit worried if Bill was going to like what he had done. But, he tried to ease himself of those thoughts, because, if it was Bill’s approval he had wanted- he had surely gotten that, a million times over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He knew he shouldn’t worry, but, he found it kind of sweet that he did. After all this time, the dizzying swarm of butterflies in his stomach at the mere mention, at the mere simple thought, of Bill, had never faded, and he had a feeling they never would either. Bill ran into the kitchen quickly, nearly tripping on his own feet as he entered, Stan couldn’t help but laugh at his clumsiness. He couldn’t help but see his boyfriend as a baby deer at times, never quite getting the hang of walking on his long, lanky legs. Bill didn’t look right at Stan at first, his eyes going right past him and looking at what was on his kitchen counter, Stan stood there, waiting for him to notice him. Bill laughed audibly, a bit taken aback, “Cake, for dinner?” He asked, as if he wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. But, the fact that it was really there right in front of him, definetly proved that he was. “Yah, cake for dinner! Your fridge didn’t really leave me with that many options- all you had in there that could be made into a meal was bacon and porkchops- no thanks. This was the best I could do, so yes. Cake for dinner! I cant be the responsible one between us, all the time, Bill...” He answered, happily at first, but his tone changed to something a bit more... seductive as he finished his sentence. Bill walked over to it closer, inspecting it. It smelled really good, and looked even better- it was two layered and vanilla, Bill’s absolute favourite. “Fair enough, fair enough,” Bill laughed, ignoring his sinful tone, thinking that it was either in his imagination, or he had been the one to interpret him wrong. His eyes still transfixed on the cake Stan had made, and Stan couldn’t wait until he noticed what he had on; but, Bill was hungry, so he could forgive him for taking a bit of time to notice. Bill noticed something, about the cake, however. “There’s no icing on it, except in the middle, it still looks really good though. But, there’s no icing on it yet-“ He commented. “Yah, there isn’t. I didn’t forget it, I made some. I think I might need you to ice it for me.. though,” He purred suggestively, a suggestiveness far too pronounced for Bill to ever have believed he was making it up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> His previous tone could’ve been up for debate, but there was no denying how sinful he sounded just then. Bill’s eyes darted to him now, the way he spoke taking all of his attention. His eyes scanned him up and down, and he groaned a little at the state of his boyfriend. He wore an apron, and very obviously, nothing underneath. It was pure white, with red lace around the strings of it. Bill didn’t even know where he managed to find that, he hadn’t seen either of parents bake in years. The skin of his neck, shoulders and collarbones exposed, decorated in lovebites, and leaving their purple and red hues on display. He looked fucking delicious, and Bill wanted a taste of him more than anything. His eyes trailed down lower, the thin fabric of his apron did nothing to conceal his hardening member, already dripping a bit onto the fabric. Stan held a bowl of white icing, and a spatula in his hands, tracing his lips suggestively with the red silicone tip of the spatula against his lips. Bill bit his lip at the way the corner of it dipped in between his mouth, giving it a shine of saliva- his mind filling with devious ideas he planned to put into action later.Stan eyed him, nervously and innocently, his puppy dog eyes nonverbally daring to ask the question, “Do you like what you see?” and Bill was determined to show him just how much he did, and he was sure whatever look was in his eyes, could never do the lust he had for his boyfriend in that moment justice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill grabbed him by the waist possessively, Stan whimpering at the feeling of his hard cock meeting Bill’s. Bill savoured every one of his whimpers and pleading looks, he was already so desperate for anything and they hadn’t even begun. He cupped his jaw with his hand, his thumb rubbing against his lip, stroking it lovingly as he simply admired him. Then, his hand slipped down to his neck, keeping him exactly where he wanted him to be. Stan mewled because it was a bit harder to breathe, he loved it so much when Bill became rough with him. He trembled under his touch, “You’re already so excited... look at you, soaking through your apron...” He cooed, and Stan only nodded, the dirty words going right to his cock, and Bill laughed darkly as he felt it twitch against his thigh. Bill couldn’t get over that, him struggling to nod while his hand was around his throat, he gripped at it a bit harder, just because he could, and Stan moaned at the rush of pain. His hand slipped from his hip, wandering to his bare ass, cupping one of his cheeks and squeezing harshly. Stan sighed at the touch, wanting his big hands to touch every inch of him. “All those slutty sounds you make... fuck... I cant believe you’re real sometimes,” He praised, he kissed him suddenly, put pulled away before Stan could even react, could even kiss back, but nevertheless taking his breath away in an instant. “Fuck... I love you so much...” He whispered against his lips, “I love you too...” Stan could barely say, his voice still raspy, and the way his throat was being grabbed rendered his vocalcords a but strained and rather useless. Bill didn’t know what he adored more, what he said or the way he said it, and the innocence he had when he said it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Only Stan could sound so cute and so pure with a hand around his throat. Bill took the spatula and bowl of icing from him, and set it on the counter, and Stan whined at the lack of touch, even though his hands had only left him for no more than 10 seconds. Bill grabbed Stan by the waist again, lifting him up and setting him next to the bowl, the tile was cold against his bare flesh. Bill stood in front of him, eyeing him lovingly, but hungrily. Bill rested his hands on the counter on either side of Stan’s thighs, keeping him there, keeping him enclosed. Stan shuddered as he loomed over him, he felt so much smaller than him like this, he was so tall and so broad, and there he was- so feminine and in an apron, his feet barely could even touch the floor. Bill’s hands moved from the counter, to each of his thighs, pulling them apart. He moved his apron to one side as well, Stan mewled as the cold air brushed against his cock. He was fully on display for Bill, he was fully at his mercy. He held his cock in the palm of his hand, his presence barely felt there. He traced the veins of his cock ever so softly, but Stan still groaned at the touch. “Princess...” He spoke softly, absently, like he was in his own little world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “My princess,” He corrected himself, but speaking louder, almost as if he wanted Stan to hear him now, but still low. Bill smirked as he felt Stan twitch in his palm, “My princess likes being told that he’s mine, hmm?” He asked, teasingly, his reactions were proof enough, he didn’t need an answer. “Yes, yes I do...” Stan confirmed, still hard to speak, as if Bill’s hand was still at his throat. “I could stare at you like this all day, all on display like this. Fuck, you’re so pretty... look at you...” He whispered, his hand finding his thigh, tracing circles into it. “Ahhhh...” Stan breathed, his mind short circuiting a bit from the hazy touches and the compliments. He bent down, and licked up his precum on the head of his cock, Stan quivered as his mouth left him, “You taste even better than cake,” He winked, and Stan could feel blush creep even darker on his cheeks. His sentence gave Bill an idea, he thanked himself for the inspiring dirty talk. He grabbed the spatula, and dunked it in the icing, coating it evenly. He took the spatula from the bowl, and rubbed the icing on the insides of Stan’s thighs. Stan trembled in anticipation, he had no idea that this was what Bill was going to do with his suggestive statement, and was so happy that this was what he came up with. This was going to be better than he could have ever imagined. Bill’s head made its way in between his thighs, licking away at the icing teasingly slowly. Stan mewled, fuck, it felt so good to have his mouth on him like that. Bill’s tongue got most of it off, lapping away at it, making the most obscene sounds that made Stan moan in delight. He sucked off what his tongue couldn’t get off, indulging himself a bit and doing a bit more than what was necessary. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He left some hickeys on the supple flesh of his thighs, wanting him to have something to remember this by. The sounds his lover made was even sweeter than the icing. He alternated to the other side, doing the same thing, and following the same process. He took note to leave the same amount of hickeys on each thigh, he knew Stan always appreciated when he did that. Stan groaned, it felt so, so good. Bill’s cheek against his cock was so teasing, though, his cock was getting no attention- and he desperately needed it. But, he knew better than to jerk himself off, he knew Bill would get to his member... eventually. Bill always liked to take his sweet time with him, no pun intended in this case. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill felt him twitch against his cheek, and heard the sinful groans he made at the slightest bit of friction between his hard member and his skin. He’d been a good boy for him all night, he’d give him what he wanted. He planted a few soothing kisses against his soft, reddening skin, and dipped the spatula back in the bowl. He took a little but less than before, and spread it across Stan’s hard cock. Stan moaned, he was so ready for this. Bill crouched back down, and got settled between his thighs. He looked up at him, he saw how much he wanted him, he looked at his hands, he was digging his nails against the tile, his desperate want becoming unbearable. “Look at me while I suck you off, if you don’t look at me, Im going to stop.” Bill spoke, his breath against his cock, already driving Stan crazy. Stan nodded emphatically, showing he completely understood. He met his possessive eyes, groaning at the sight alone, his boyfriend’s pretty face, between his thighs was nearly too much for him as it is. Bill got another idea, he took the spatula again, only a bit of the vanilla icing remained on the silicone end. It was a bit melted now, and it looked a bit like cum if you squinted. He held it to Stan’s lips, pressing against them, almost forcing him to open them but there wasn’t enough force there. “I know how much you love things in your mouth... open up.” He commanded, he spoke with a suggestiveness that matched his dirty words. Stan immediately parted his lips, he was obedient as a well trained puppy, that obedience going straight to Bill’s cock. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> His tongue darted out of his lips to lick at it teasingly, remarkably similar to how he would lick Bill’s cock just as he was about to take it into his mouth. He was a slutty little minx and he knew it, he wanted to put on a show for Bill. And fuck, Bill really wanted to watch. Bill had a strong grip on the wooden handle, and forced it into Stan’s mouth. He watched his lips accommodate to the side of the silicone end, stretching over it to fit it in, drool leaking out as he did so. Bill couldn’t help but moan, his eyes transfixed on how some of the icing got on his lips, and how wet his lips were. Stan took it all, quicker than Bill was shoving it into his mouth, moaning around the plastic, Bill’s groans were addicting to him, they made him feel so good. His lips were stretched obscenely, he pushed it in deeper, hearing him moan and gag on it at the same time was something else. Bill groaned even louder, and Stan never broke broke their eye contact, he stared deeply into the hungry blue eyes below him, daring him to say something. Daring him to call him a name, because fuck, he wanted to hear that so badly. “Fucking needy little thing...” He said, still not taking him into his mouth yet, he wanted him begging for it, quivering with need. “Fucking tease...” Bill mused again. Despite the degrading nature of his words, Stan knew his true feelings. All he needed was to look in his eyes to know how he really felt. He was looking at him so lovingly, so adoringly. Smothering, romantic, love, and Stan felt it, and he knew his gaze was radiating the same. In a, desperate way, just how Bill wanted him. And, that was what he got. Stan trembled in time with his words as soon as they left his mouth, groaning at his boyfriend’s comments. Bill had evidence right in front of his face just how much his words had effected him. “Cmon... please Bill... please!!” He whined, so high pitched and so needy, Bill felt compelled to do what he asked, he was just too cute. He was so cute when he got worked up like this. Bill took him into his mouth, fitting as much of him as he could without any warning. He left Stan breathless, and moaning at the same time. He struggled to catch his breath as Bill deep throated him, swallowing around him. He matched his pace to the pace of his thrusts of the spatula into his mouth, Stan struggled to moan due to the size of the end, but he sure did try. His sounds were so loud, and so high as Bill hallowed his cheeks around him, stroking with his hand what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. He didn’t do this as often as Stanley did, so he hadn’t totally mastered his gag reflex yet, but, he was still pretty good at it. He recalled what Stan did that he really liked, and tried to emulate that. He dipped his tongue into the slit of his cock, and swirled his tongue around his length. He tried to do that how Stan did it, because he always liked it quite a lot. Saliva mixed with icing dripped from his mouth as he moaned around the silicone, he looked like he had a mouthful of cum- and fuck, Bill was damned if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Saliva dripped out of his abused mouth as it was fucked with the spatula, Bill kept a firm grip on the wooden end as he fucked it in and out of his mouth, thrusting slowly and deeply. It dripped down his mouth, and some of it even made it onto his thigh as he rolled his head back, he looked like such a mess, and Bill savoured every moment of it. He looked good enough to eat, and Bill didn’t just wanted a piece- he wanted the whole thing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan’s moans were uncontrollable at this point, it felt so fucking good. “So fucking cute...” Bill whispered around the head of his cock. Bill rarely sucked him off, always preferring to eat his ass out instead, so the times he did do it, always felt so much better, always felt all the more special. Bill  continued to praise him with his cock still in his mouth, the vibrations from his voice felt unbelievable, combined with the sweet nothings; Stan felt like he was even higher than cloud nine. Stan gripped tightly at his auburn hair, his hands shakily holding onto him. This was his nonverbal warning he was going to cum soon. “I’m gonna.... I’m...” Stan whimpered, his face contorting as it always did just as he was about to release. He bit his lip to try and put off his inevitable release, hoping to get a few more moments of pleasure. “It’s okay, doll. Cum for me...” Bill coaxed, and a few more licks was all it took. Stanley came into his mouth squirming as he did so, Bill groaned as his cum hit the back of his throat, and at the feeling of his nails dig into his skull. “Oh, Bill...” He yelped, overcome by pleasure as he released. Their eye contact never breaking, turning Bill on all the more. He loved that look of pleasure on his face whenever he came, he needed to fuck him as soon as possible. He was growing so hard, thinking about fucking him, his tight hole slick with lube, and still slick with cum from their previous endeavours. He bobbed his head around his head as he came, swallowing every last bit of his cum, Stan moaned at the feeling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He really hoped he could make Bill feel as good when he did that to him. He pulled away from his cock with a ‘pop’ sort of a sound, Stan tensed up out of embarrassment, his face glowing an embarrassed pink. He caught his breath, panting heavily, “Oh, Bill. Oh my gosh, that felt so great- thank you,” He spoke, and Bill cut him off, kissing him for real this time, wanting this moment to last. He took his breath away, the breath he had barely a strong hold of in the first place. Stan sucked at his tongue, wanting to taste Bill fully and completely. Bill groaned into his mouth, there was something so arousing about him liking the taste of his own cum that much. All their worries melted away as they kissed each other. All that mattered was them, all that mattered was now. Stan pulled Bill closer by the ends of the undone flannel shirt, wanting to close the gap between them. He wanted him so close he could feel his heart beat through his chest. Bill pulled away, gasping for breath. He grabbed ahold of his hips, a touch Stan had craved. He buzzed in adoration, he loved the way his calloused fingers felt against his soft, plush skin. Stan could tell where Bill wanted this to go, and was more than on board, he helped him turn over, crouched on all fours on the countertop. It was exhilaratingly demeaning to be in such a position, on his hands and knees, ass fully on display. He whimpered for more, he needed Bill to do something to him. He was already growing dizzy with want. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill pulled his taut cheeks apart, wanting his asshole on display for him. Stan quivered at how vulnerable he was, his boyfriend’s broad frame casting a shadow over him in the dim kitchen light. He was so eager for Bill to see what he had done for him, he bit his lip at the thought of it. He was such a good little slut for him, he couldn’t wait for him to say something about it. Bill gripped harsher at his flesh, and Stan knew he must’ve noticed. “Look at you... all stretched out already...” Bill cooed, pressing a kiss to his prepared hole. Bill was impressed by how good of a job he had done, Stan whimpered when he felt his lips on him. “Babydoll,” His hot breath ghosted against his quivering hole, Stan shivered in delight at the sensation. A question hung over Bill, though. He couldn’t quite finger out what he had used, he was far too stretched to just have been finger fucked. And then, it hit him... the end of the spatula. Bill twitched at the thought of his princess... fucking himself with it, getting all nice and ready for him. He reached over and held it in his hand, his fingers tracing up the length, he had no idea it had been in him. His mind wandered, he wondered how far his babyboy had gotten before he called it quits, whimpering and whining as it stretched him. Bill could hardly contain himself at that moment, it was taking all of his restraint to not fuck him senseless right now, slide into him deep as a ‘thank you’ gift- the mental pictures he was creating at that moment were far beyond anything he could ever even come up with- and he actually did those things... he was only a bit mad that he couldn’t have seen that. “You fucked yourself open for me... while I was in the other room... I bet you wanted me to hear you... hm? You wanted me to hear you, walk in on you like that, and catch you doing it- right? My little slutty boy... fucking himself open just for me...” He tongued teasingly at his entrance after speaking, sliding in just a bit, but immediately snaking it back out... never enough to satisfy him. Stan moaned helplessly and uncontrollably at the dirty words, nodding helplessly, confirming everything he said was all true<br/>
“Fuck... you’re so hot. So fucking filthy.” Bill growled, sucking a bite mark into the smooth skin of his ass, making Stan squirm beneath his tongue. “I am a bit mad that I missed it... though... you put on such a great show and I couldn’t get to see it...” He mused, and paused for a moment, admiring just how fucking sexy Stan looked at that moment. His apron still tied around his waist, a cute little bow just above his ass, and fuck was it a gift indeed. Bill thought of something to say next, he was on a role there and didn’t want to lose moment. He had remembered back to a conversation he and Stan had had awhile back. Ever since they’d become intimate with each other, they had had many, many conversions about kinks and about boundaries when exploring them. He’d remembered Stan telling him about his fantasies, and about what he liked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> And every single one of them involved Bill dominating him in some sort of way- which made Bill feel better. Because everything he had imagined, involved dominating him in some way. He thought for a moment, and spoke. “How do you think I should punish you... for making me so mad?” He said experimentally. He was thankful he said that, Stan let out the most arousing whine as the words left his lips. Stan couldn’t believe he had heard that, this was one of his biggest fantasies come to life- except even better. He’d imagined so many times, Bill pending him over his knee, and spanking him. And then maybe even spanking him some more, because he noticed him rubbing himself against his knee. This was even better, fully on display, completely naked, on the counter, ready for Bill and fully at his disposal. Stan didn’t even have to think before he answered. “Please, please spank me.” He wriggled his hips in front of him invitingly. His cock was impossibly hard, he couldn’t believe he was finally going to get the real thing this time, he had imagined this so many times. He was probably going to cry if he didn’t hit him soon, as weird as that was to say. “I don’t know... I mean... I shouldn’t do something to you that you want...” He thought out loud, teasing him of course. He had every intention of doing that, he knew exactly how much he wanted him to spank him. He knew all of Stanley’s tells. The way he nervously brought it up, and quickly dropped the subject, so embarrassed to admit how much he really, really wanted it. He just wanted to see how desperate for it he could make him. He brought a hand to his asscheek, kneading circles into the soft flesh under his finger tips as Stan barely kept it together. Stan moaned loudly out of sheer desperation, waiting this long nearly driving him to his breaking point. “Please!! Please- show me what a bad little boy I’ve been...” He mewled seductively, throwing Bill completely out of it for second, he was totally taken aback at how fucking hot he was. “Shit... Stanley,” He whispered, growing breathless himself. He had no idea he wanted to spank him so bad, now that he was denying both of them of it now. “How many do you think you should get?” Bill asked, and Stan was very quick to answer, “A lot!! So many... I deserve so, so many... It’s the only way I’m gonna learn..” He whined, trying to sound innocent, but his moans undercut that act. Bill almost laughed, of course he’d say that. “I’m only going to give you five,” Bill decided, not giving him very many would be an even bigger punishment than giving him a lot. Stan raised his ass up higher, eager for as many as Bill would give him. “You’re going to count them, as I give them, or else I’ll have to start all over,” He spoke, but rethought that was quickly as the words came out. He’d miscount on purpose just to get more, he retracted that statement. “You’re going to count them, or else I’m going to stop and won’t spank you at all, are we clear, princess?” He spoke, and Stan moaned out a yes very quickly. He loved the way he spoke to him like that, the way he spoke down to him, and didn’t give him a choice either. His, “Are we clear, princess?” was replaying in his mind, over and over, he was spilling out precum at the thought of it, getting his apron even more wet. This was even better than he ever could have imagined, he was going to make him count them out loud too. Bill held his hips down with one hand, and brought his right hand up. He looked at his own hand for a second or so, he didn’t exactly know how to go about this. He’d tell him if he hurt him, right? He didn’t want to hurt him- but, obviously Stan wanted to be hurt.. or else he wouldn’t have brought it up. He brought his hand down onto his ass cheek, and Stan moaned loudly at the sting, and at the skin to skin contact. He slapped the cheek with the bite mark on it, making it hurt more than it should have. “One!” Stan counted, he closed his eyes and savoured it all, he couldn’t believe this was really happening. He winced at the initial pain, but welcomed more of it as it turned into pleasure, nearly immediately.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill repeated it, taking Stan’s moan as a good sign. “Two!!” Stan counted, eager for the next one. Bill did it a third time, he noticed that a red mark was forming on his ass, in the shape of his handprint. “Three!” Stan said again, biting at his lip, he didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. His member was so hard between that it ached to be touched. He wasn’t sure if he’d make it to 4 and 5. Bill bit his lip as he watched it form, the thought of him.. walking around with that kind of a mark. And only them two would know that it was there, it was like a lovebite but... better; dirtier. Stan felt it form too, and he couldn’t wait to see it when he looked at it in the mirror the next time he got the chance. Four and five went by like a blur for both of them, they both loved it so much. Stan wanted more, and Bill wanted to give him more. He looked at the spatula siting by them that they had abandoned, and it gave Bill an idea. Maybe he could... go back on his word just a bit. He grabbed it by the wooden handle, and slapped the rubber end on his ass. It stung, but didn’t feel the same as Bill’s hand did, it didn’t feel as intimate. But, that wasn’t to say he didn’t like it, he squealed and excitement and delight, he was so, so happy to be getting more. “More??” He asked excitedly, and Bill smiled at his excitement, his conscience completely eased, and he was no longer nervous that he had possibly took it too far. “When I said 5... I meant on each cheek,” He said, though he really hadn’t. He just liked it a lot more than he anticipated it, and he loved the sounds Stan was making in response to it. “And... you didn’t count. So, I guess I have to start over...” He said, and Stan’s heart was elated. Bill brought the rubber to his skin, “One!” He counted happily, groaning at the pain. Stan nearly saw stars when he felt Bill’s hand wrap around his throat, choking him lightly from behind. He whimpered at the feeling, it was a noice so high that it couldn’t been mistaken for a whine out of annoyance, but it absolutely was not. Bill did that experimentally, but decided to keep his hand there. “Two!” He counted again, it hurt a lot more the second time, since the skin was bruising. “Three!” He moaned, it was getting increasingly harder to count in a way that made sense, his mind was going blank, and it was nearly impossible to speak. Bill grabbed onto his throat tighter, and Stan was in near tears. He felt so good, so powerless, it was almost too much. This was what he needed, this made him feel so much better about everything. He wasn’t the succubus demon killing innocent men anymore, he was just a bottom, bent over Bill’s counter, getting choked and getting spanked. He wasn’t a monster right now, he was just a bad little boy getting punished. “Four-“ He called out, the knees he supported himself on were starting to become shakier. “Five!” He counted for the last time, though barely understandable, his arms completely gave out, succumbing to the pleasure and rendering them useless. Bill was proud of himself, for making him that weak. Bill kissed each of the prints on his ass soothingly, over and over again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You did so well princess, so, so well. Taking your punishment so good... my good boy...” He praised, “Ahhh-“ Stan moaned, his brain slowly turning to mush, he could barely keep his legs from collapsing underneath him, let alone speak. He was just lucky he could stay somewhat in the same position. Stan thought it over, and realized; techinically, because he didn’t count the actual 6th spank, they had to redo it- so, he actually got 11 of them, instead of 10. His favourite number, fuck... that was soothing. Bill pried his trembling thighs apart, his leaky cock on display once more. Stan, under any other circumstance would have covered himself up again; but was far too far gone to fight this. He didn’t care about being embarrassed anymore, he wanted to be fucked, touched, and tasted. Bill held him in his hand, admiring how hard he’d made him. “Wow... you really liked that, huh princess?” And Bill hardly knew the half of it. “I’m gonna cum soon...” Stan admitted embarrassingly, though, he didn’t really care at this point. He didn’t just really like it, he really, really liked that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill continued to hold the spatula in his hand, running his hand over the wooden end of it, his mind wandering once again. The thought of that being in him... was too much. Too powerful to just stay a thought. He wanted to verbalized what he was thinking. “I bet you took this thing so easily, I’ve prepped you to take much bigger...” He mused, turning himself on a bit with the compliment. His tongue darting into his asshole teasingly, slicking him up. Stan nodded, he didn’t want to say it but... he was right. Stan tensed up at the intrusion, and the words. He knew what was coming next and he could barely contain himself. Bill wanted to slick him up as quickly as possible, thrusting his tongue in and out of his hole, slicking it up with his spit. “It was probably hard to pretend this was me... but I bet you did, didn’t you?” Stan nodded frantically, remembering how good it felt. Memories came to him, dancing in his head, overwhelming him. Slicking his hole up with icing to make it slide in even better, biting his lip so Bill wouldn’t hear him getting ready for him, back against the fridge, wishing it was Bill who was preparing him. It was making him have fantasies of being his little housewife or something, waiting patiently to get home, so he could fuck him after work. Stan wanted that kind of thing now, he didn’t even know how he’d thought of it. “What you use as lube? Your own spit, icing..? tell me...” He asked, and Stan bit back a moan, this was so embarrassing- he didn’t know why he liked being humiliated as much as he did. “I-icing... and th-the cum y-you filled me with,” He stuttered out, he was stuttering as badly as, well.. Bill! He was barely able to string a sentence together, and that.. combined with what he just said, Bill let out a noise that was a mix between a moan, and a growl. He didn’t know why, but, it was so hot knowing he released that much into him. The thought of him full of his cum was too much. “Clenching your tight little hole around this... just to get as much out of it as possible. Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut... so fucking hot...” He whispered, spitting into his hole for good measure, getting it as ready as possible. Stan was whining uncontrollably now, his words effected him more than Bill realized. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Cumming untouched was a very real possibility, and Stan was so desperate for any kind of release he wouldn’t even be embarrassed if that happened. Bill couldn’t believe what he was saying, but, it felt so right. He felt like he should wash his mouth out with soap or something, but he was just saying what he was thinking- and Stanley sure liked to hear it so... maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Bill aligned himself teasingly at his entrance, pressing into him, but never getting deep enough to actually enter him. It was driving Stanley crazy, and Bill barely had the discipline to keep from sliding into him fully too. “You make me so hard, princess. You get me so fucking turned on. Feel how hard you make me, doll. Can you feel it?” Stanley nodded frantically, biting his lip at how great it felt, and it was barely even anything. He tried to thrust his hips against it, trying to get something more, but, Bill’s hand left his throat, and held his hips in place. He wasn’t moving anywhere, anymore, anytime soon. He groaned in defeat, he wanted to be fucked so badly, he couldn’t wait any longer. “How bad do you want it right now... how bad do you want me to fill you up” Bill asked, taking his twitching member between his fingers, giving it a few strokes, testing how he’d react. His thighs started to shake, and he looked like he was about to collapse, he wanted it so bad. He knew that, but, he needed him to say it. Nothing sounded better than Stanley begging for him. “Ahhhh- Bill, so, badly, mmmm- Bill!” Was all he could say, but the way he was saying it sure did convey his message. He wanted it so bad it was overwhelming him, consuming him, his voice wavering. He sounded as though he was near tears, and Bill was in awe someone could want him so much. Bill was more than ready to give in now. He scooped some icing from the bowl, and placed some of it along his hole, and onto his cock, wanting to at least be gentle to his overstimulated sweetheart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He slid into him, and they both knew they both were not going to last long. Bill groaned, he’d never get over how fucking amazing it was to be inside Stan. He was so fucking tight, it felt amazing. Who knew being inside a succubus could feel like such heaven? Bill’s thrusts were already starting to get sloppy, Stan’s mouth fell open every single time he slid against his prostate, and wouldn’t stay closed. He let out the most beautiful moans, sounds Bill wanted to hear, again and again and again. He fucked into him senseless, wanting to render his legs useless. God, did Bill want that so bad- have him be reduced to nothing more than a pile of limbs, having to be carried until he could feel his legs again. Fuck, Bill almost released just thinking about it. “This is how it’s gonna be when we’re married, you’ll just be waiting for me to come home and fuck you, like a slutty housewife, my slutty housewife” Bill yelled into the midnight air, between moans and baited breaths. Stan moaned, it was as if he had read his mind. Stan loved hearing him talk about marriage, even in a context as degrading as this. As much as he wanted a life and career of his own, there was something so arousing about being his little housewife, dusting the shelves of their future house, wearing a buttplug, waiting for him to get home. Maybe Bill would be a famous writer one day, and he’d buy him nice things while he waited for him to get home, fingering himself in all the different rooms in their big, beautiful house. It was something nice to think about, at least. “I’m gonna get you pretty aprons and skirts and i’m gonna fuck you all over the house, just like this” Bill groaned, sliding into him quicker, but his pace growing more and more sloppy. Lust didn’t have the same affect on Stan as it did Bill. Lust rendered speech useless for Stan, he could barely speak, barely get words out. But fuck, Bill couldn’t stop talking. Not that Stan didn’t like how filthy he was, don’t get him wrong, but... his perverse ramblings and carnal musings had a very big affect on him... a bigger one than he realized. Bill’s mind, so far gone with lust it was beyond rational thought. He put his creativity to use in the most sinful of ways. He grabbed the spatula, for the last time that night. He used all of his remaining strength, and stretched his arm over to the bowl, shakily dipping the end of it in some of the white icing. He smirked deviously, aligning that to his hole as well, wanting to see him stretched to his absolute limit. Stanley yelped at the sudden new intrusion, “No more... Bill.. I’m gonna break!!” He already felt so, so full. Bill was a challenge to take all by himself, he already felt like he was about to burst. “Shhhhh... I believe in you, baby. You love getting fucked so much... a little cockslut like you can easily take two...” Bill reasoned, and Stan supposed he was right. He was being stretched to his absolute limit. He felt like he was going to convulse, all of his limbs felt shaky. He felt so weightless. “I was right... you must like this so much, you’re clenching so hard I can barely fucking move... so tight...” Bill mused. He was being impaled so deeply he couldn’t speak anymore, he was reduced to moans and sobs now. Bill thrust the handle in time with him, Stan squealed each time they brushed up against his prostate, and moaned deliciously loud when they actually hit it. “Look at that greedy little hole.. swallowing everything up like that.” Stan said something incomprehensible back, but even he didn’t exactly know what he was saying, so trying to decode it was pointless. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Pleasure danced across his sensitive, overstimulated nerves. He sobbed, tears welling up in his eyes, he’d never felt this stretched in his entire life, and he loved every minute of it. Tears were uncontrollably streaming down his face, “More, more, please more...” He whimpered, wanting it again every time Bill pulled out to thrust in again. “Fuck, you love to be filled don’t you?” Bill whispered into his ear as Stan screamed and sobbed in pleasure. But, that wasn’t enough, Bill needed to hear his weary voice try to speak. “Who loves being filled?” He asked, slamming the wooden rod and his cock into him again and again, into his slick, seeded ass, icing and cum making obscene sounds as he slid inside him, punctuating his words almost. “Me!! I do!! I do!!! I love it-” Stan screamed, his end so close, his eyes were rolling back into his head, and Bill growled at how much of a fucking whore he sounded like. “Fucking cockslut...” Bill whispered, and that was what sent him. Stan came, hard, hid mind going blank, all he could see was white. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan went absolutely limp, collapsing against the countertop. Bill wasn’t far behind him, fucking into him with a few more slow thrust, pulling the spatula out of him. He quickly spilled his seed into him. Stan let out the filthiest moan he had that entire night, he felt so, so full. He loved the way his cum warmed him up, and made him feel so full, so complete. He was too weak to move, Bill pulled out of him slowly, and sat him up. Stan bit his lip at the feeling of warm cum drip down his leg, a familiar feeling he loved so much. It was a feeling he’d never get tired of. Bill kissed his neck, catching his breath against his skin, feeling Stan’s heart beat rapidly against his chest as their skin touched. His fingers still still so stick from all of that icing, he brought his fingers up to his lips, instructing him to lick them clean. He knew he probably shouldn’t, he was so tired, and was so out of energy, he barely could open his mouth to speak- let alone suck. But... he needed something in his mouth, he craved Bill. He grabbed his hand in his, and brought his two fingers between his lips, sucking at them. He sucked at them so sloppily, so erotically, the sounds he was making were so wet and obscene, not to mention the little moans escaping his lips. He loved this, he loved being used like this. His shaky hands held his hand there, thrusting them in and out of his mouth, humming against them as he sucked on his fingers, drool tricking down them. “Mhmmm, that’s my boy, yah baby, just like that, so, good,” He cooed quietly, after awhile, he took his fingers out, and laughed at how Stanley pouted at the loss of them. “You know what I’m going to do later, princess?” He asked innocently, kissing his neck sweetly. Stan smiled, expecting him to say something sweet. “I’m gonna lick all of that icing out of your greedy little hole,” He smiled back, in that same innocent tone, though his words were the farthest thing from it. Stan couldn’t help but shiver against Bill’s lips, making Bill laugh a little bit when he felt that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan walked slowly down the hallway, leading to Bill’s room. He hold him that he wanted to get his clothes, and to be on the bed waiting for him. Bill was a bit confused, but, did as Stan told him. Stan’s heart pounded as he came closer and closer to his bedroom door, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he walked. He heard the metal of the cuffs clink together in his hand, he traced his fingers over the alluring shine of the silver metal. It was cold in his palm, and he was sure it was going to feel even colder against his wrists, he shivered in delight- he couldn’t wait for that feeling. He wasn’t sure what excited him more- the fantasy that was about to come to life, or, the fact he had stolen these. It was thrilling, being so terrible. Sure, it had its major drawbacks, the gut wrenching guilt he carried around wherever he went, being one of them. But, his morals were becoming more and more altered by the day, it was starting to affect him in ways he couldn’t help but notice, even if they weren’t outwardly visible. The changes to his appewnce were nearly immediate, but, his morals being changed, his persecution of things being altered, that was slower. And that part scared him more than anything else, control was starting to slip away, and he was starting to notice that more and more every day. Before, he was killing because he had to, more or less. But, he was killing because he could, now. Just because it made him feel good, he wasn’t trying to put it off as much. He’d read that a succubus only needs to feed once a month to survive and, at the rate he was going, at the death toll he was wracking up, he was doing a lot more than just surviving. He couldn’t even help it, he could barely control himself now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Free will was slipping through his fingers more and more by the day, just as the chains of the handcuffs were slipping through his fingers, as he began running the cold metal through his hands. He supposed that maybe the death was worth it, if it meant Bill was going to restrain him like that. He felt himself twitch at the thought, yah... this was definitely going to be worth it. He came to the end of the hall, to the room he knew was Bill’s. He peered his head into the door, tapping on the wooden doorframe, announcing his presence quietly as to not scare him. Bill was not startled, he smiled at the sight of him, he had already started to miss him in the mere minutes they’d been apart. It would be tough to go back to life without so much one on one time with Stan after this weekend, he knew that more so now more than ever. The delight he felt course through his whole body upon seeing him peak in the room was enough proof of it. He looked at him, he looked like a wreck in the best way, especially in the low light of his bedroom. Hickeys everywhere, his skin shined with sweat and cum, hair messy and disheveled; he was completely bare now; wearing nothing, and held the rest of his clothes in his other hand, the one at his side and not hidden away from his view. Bill smiled even more, the habits of his lover were so consistent and predictable, his clothes were folded neatly, despite being defiled by their previous activities. They didn’t deserve such care, but still, Stan was Stan, so he folded them very neatly, and dropped them to the ground gingerly. They still stayed in their neat pile. “What do you have behind your back?” He asked, cheerfully questioning, interested but not overly interested, he just wanted to be touching Stan again. Stan giggled, “Youll see...” He answered, a devilish grin tugging at his lips, which made Bill grow increasingly curious of the object behind Stan’s back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan crawled onto the bed, where Bill sat. His back resting flat against his headboard, and his long legs lay outstretched- as if to be an invitation. Stan accepted, straddling his thighs, he sat on his knees. He dropped his handcuffs behind him, so he could have both of his hands free. He wasn’t quite ready to introduce them, not yet, anyways. Bill’s hands fell lazily at his waist, holding him softly. He traced small circles into his hips with his thumbs, Stan sighed in content at the touch. Bill kissed his neck, but it was different than before. It wasn’t rough, it wasn’t harsh, there was no intention to leave any sort of a mark. This was here, and this was now; they were living in the moment, this moment. It was just a tender sign of affection, a way to thank him for being his. His kisses were aimless, and soft, so much so that sometimes Stan could barely feel them. But, he knew they were there, his breath ghosted against his abused skin, it made him feel light and airy, like he was floating. Stan closed his eyes, relaxing into his touch and soothing kisses. Bill left him a few butterfly kisses, knowing how much they tickled him. His neck was so sensitive, so receptive to anything. Stan giggled, pushing him away, and laughed some more as Bill repeated. Bill smiled, Stan’s laughter was always the cutest when he was being tickled. Stan was so happy, so content in that very moment. He loved the range in which Bill showed love, he could show love in the form of light kisses on his neck, or in the form of a hand around his throat- he had a full range, and Stan really liked that about him. Stan couldn’t help but giggle, tensing his neck at the feeling, “Hey!! Cut it out,” He said, lightheartedly, smiling as he told him. Bill laughed too, “Youre so cute... you really are... so, so cute,” and Stan didn’t say anything back, but the blush blooming on his cheeks spoke for him. Bill pulled away from his neck, and pressed their foreheads together. Stan looked at him through half lidded eyes, eyelashes hiding their true, deep brown colour. They still stayed smiling, the tips of their noses touching, breathing in each other’s breath, experiencing each other in the most intimate way possible. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and as the stares between them lingered, they got a great look. “Hi...” Bill whispered as Stan opened his eyes, and Stan giggled. This was something they did, and Stan didn’t know why but, he thought it was so cute every time. “Hi...” Stan whispered back, so in love with him to the point he genuinely felt a bit dizzy. Stan pulled away, just for a breath that wasn’t from Bill. His hands ran teasingly up the fabric of Bill’s unbuttoned flannel, tracing the lines of the pattern. His breath hitched at the sudden touch, he liked it, he was just taken a bit aback. “Why’s this still on...” Stan mused, a bit of seduction coming to dwell in his touches now, and the lull of his voice. He pealed it off his shoulders, down his long arms, until it was off of his body all together. Stan took it, and slid into it, he was drowning in it, it was so big on him. Neither of them could figure out why, but, that was a bit arousing to the both of them. Bill was skinny, but broad- whereas Stan was just skinny. His hips and shoulders were still so boyish, feminine even. But, Bill was so big, growing into the nickname he had gotten in their friend group as a child, Stan always drowned in his clothing. Bill awaited his approval, something, anything, to let him know he liked what he was seeing. He’d always been really self conscious, and that was magnified now that he saw Stanley naked on a pretty regular basis. He couldn’t believe someone like Stan was with someone like him, for many reasons. And that was one of them- in Bill’s opinion, Stan was the prettiest boy on earth, he couldn’t believe Stan would be with someone like him- he didn’t see what Stan saw in him, and a part of him knew he never would. Bill hated nearly everything about his appearance, he hated his lanky build, he hated his big hands, he hated his height, too. Only Richie could pull off being tall, in his opinion at least, and he definitely couldn’t pull it off; again, in his opinion. Not to mention his scars; oh god, his scars. His scars were his biggest insecurity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill had many, many self destructive tendencies, that came in waves; they fluctuated and varied- but, were always a constant in his life. It stemmed from his need for instant gratification, and a burning need for control. He’d drive super recklessly, just to try to crash. Sometimes he’d binge eat, then throw it all up, and not eat again for days. That was constant. But, his self injury came in waves. Sometimes it was suicidal, sometimes it wasn’t. He had many reasons for doing it, it was a complex problem for him, as it was for everyone who struggled with it. Sometimes he felt that he deserved it, just like he felt that he deserved his parents abandoning him. He blamed himself, for his parents shortcomings, for his own. He wasn’t a good enough son for them, which festered into him thinking he wasn’t a good son, period. Which festered into him believing he wasn’t a good person, and was undeserving of better treatment. If only he was a better son, his parents could be happy, and they’d still talk to him, and still show love to him. He assumed that if he deserved better, his parents would show him better. Sometimes it was because he was so overwhelmed by paranoia and anxiety that that was the only way to release some of the tension, hitting himself or pulling at his hair was a good distraction. It all varied. Most of the time, his self harm was non suicidal. Sometimes they were burns, most of the time they were cuts. He cut and burned his chest, and his thighs, mainly, so nobody could ever see them. But, now, Stanley had seen them; and he had to let Stanley in on his secrets. Now, all those times when the losers went swimming, and he kept his shirt on or didn’t swim at all- all made sense. When he told him, he was worried he’d be scared off by it. But, to his surprise, Stan wasn’t. Nothing about him ever put him off, he didn’t understand why, or how, but, he was thankful. He felt almost indebted to him for that. It broke Stanley’s heart to see him like this, to see him doing things like this. It made him hurt to know he couldn’t convince him to stop, almost feeling like his love wasn’t enough for him, or something. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> But, he knew that his feelings were beyond either of their control, and all he could do was be a support system for him. He was a great support system for him, but, he couldn’t save him completely- which left him heartbroken. He wanted so badly to make him feel all better, to save him. But, he knew that that was a bit patronizing, and that it was impossible. His heart would shatter a bit more every time he’d see a cut or a burn that looked fresh. But, now that he’d been going to a bit more behavioural therapy, in addition to talk therapy, and been on a heavier prescription, the days when the cuts and burns and bruises looked fresh were fewer and farther between. And Stanley was so, so proud of him, more than he could ever put into words. The height of his self harming was when he wasn’t going to therapy, and when he needed a natural painkiller of sorts but, the scars still lingered, and stayed. He’d learned to put it off, to distract himself. He was getting better at releasing his feelings into his writings, he tried his best to write whenever he felt too much. Or, he’d call Stan whenever he felt the impulse to hurt himself. He couldn’t hurt himself while on the phone with Stan, he didn’t have the heart to. Both methods had helped him a lot. Despite all his progress, Bill couldn’t help but feel held back by them. They made him feel powerless, they made him feel weak. And, they also made him feel ugly. And Stan, more than anything, wanted him to know he was the furthest thing from that. “I’m so proud of you,” Stan whispered, looking at him sincerely, and Bill knew he meant every word he said. “I’m so proud of you, look at how old these scars are, they’ve healed so much... you’re incredible.” Stan praised, tracing over them with his thumb. “Thank you...” Bill managed to say, already getting choked up a bit. And fuck, did he want him to keep going, and Stan intended to. He pressed his lips softly to the most pronounced scars on his chest, and Bill blushed under the affection. “I love you, Bill. You mean the world to me,” He spoke lovingly against his chest, kissing his skin ever so softly. “Guess how much I love you,” Stan smiled, looking up at him with big, doe eyes. He knew how much Bill needed to hear this, and he hoped he took a bit of it to heart. “I dunno.. a lot?” He answered, and Stan shook his head ‘no’, his smile widening. “Nope... guess again,” and now Bill couldn’t help but smile. Bill ran a hand through his hair, getting some of his curly bangs out of his eye. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked, in his shirt, straddling his lap, doting on him like this. Stan was so glad Bill could be so vulnerable like this with him, he treasured that so much. “A lot, a lot?” Bill asked, and it broke Stan’s heart the question in his voice was genuine, he really didn’t know. Stan smiled warmly, but shook his head ‘no’ again. “More than anything, Bill. More than anything.” He corrected him. He traced aimless patterns in his skin, his lips returned there as well. He sucked light hickeys into his skin, so, if he ever did self harm there again, he’d at least have a reminder that he was loved when he looked down at his chest. Bill mewled at the feeling, his eyelids growing a bit heavier. He stayed there, taking in the subtleties of his lover. Loving the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed, taking in the scent of his skin, the saltiness of the sweat that rested on his chest. He wanted him to know he treasured being there, that he felt lucky to be there. Bill felt like he was drowning in all of the adoration, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re my favourite person in the whole world, Bill. I’m so lucky to have you, and I’m never, ever going to leave you,” He reassured him, and Bill felt like he was going to burst. He whined at the words he spoke, loving them so, so much. He felt tears well up in his eyes, emotions were quickly overtaking him. Stan used the excess fabric of the shirt his arms didn’t occupy, and made sweater paws, and rubbed away his tears gently. “I’m not... crying... I just... I just...” Bill couldn’t explain it, but, he knew Stan knew he was happy. Stan pressed a soft kiss to his lips, reassuring him he somehow knew what he was trying to say. “Shhh, I know, honey, I know...” Stan soothed him, and Bill was so happy he had such a bond with him. He often couldn’t express his emotions, the intensity of them often overwhelmed him at times. But, Stan could make more sense of them than he could, and he was so grateful for that. It felt amazing to finally love someone so truly and deeply, and understand them so well- and to have that be reciprocated back. “Hey, lemme show you something-“ Stan said, changing the subject to something not as heavy, hoping to get Bill to not feel as overwhelmed. Stan was still smiling, but, it wasn’t out of a loving happiness, it was a bit sinful in nature. Stan reached over into his nightstand drawer, and searched for a lighter he knew would be there. Bill and Richie always had an abundance of these around, mostly for smoking, though. Which, Stan also wasn’t fond of, but- he’d rather he smoked then hurt himself with them so... he’d be fine with it for now. Bill cocked his head in confusion, he had no clue what Stan was about to do. He relaxed in his seat, and watched with captivation. Stan opened his mouth, and stuck his tongue out, a bit of saliva getting into his chin as he did so. Stan flicked the lighter, and the orange glow of the flames both caught his attention, and lit up the room. He stuck the hot flame to the tip of his tongue, Bill watched, he wanted to look away but somehow he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to the strangely erotic sight, he didn’t even know why he was starting to get aroused by it. Damn him, and damn his attraction to his mouth- he thought to himself. Stan felt him twitch underneath him, and he could only giggle deviously at the feeling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> He shifted in his seating in a way that could’ve been played off accidentally, but Bill knew that wasn’t the case. The tip of his dick now sat teasingly against his hole. Bill wanted nothing more than to grab his slim little hips, and bounce him on his cock over and over again but- he didn’t. He’d wait, for now. Bill watched the tip of his tongue start to turn black, and he watched as Stan didn’t even flinch. He retracted his tongue back into his mouth, squishing it around, and making obscene sounds that Bill loved way too much. He stuck his tongue back out again, and it was miraculously healed. “Fuck....” Bill cursed, biting his lip. Bill thought to himself, fuck.. did he have issues- he knew he shouldn’t be as turned on as he was. But, this was Stanley they were talking about... and he could do pretty much anything to him or near him- and he’d probably find it pretty hot. “How’d you do that, baby?” He asked, and Stan thought for a moment, and played up his innocence at the sound of the nickname. “Doesn’t matter...” He avoided answering, but Bill wasn’t at all suspicious. He didn’t know he had reason to be. He didn’t know his boyfriend was possessed by satan and was now a succubus, who had magical self healing powers or some shit- and that’s how he could do it. Bill supposed it didn’t really matter, and dismissed the thought, deciding he didn’t care enough to press further with that line of questioning. Stan set the lighter back in the drawer, and closed it quickly. “Want your surprise now??” He asked, teasingly. Rolling his hips as he spoke, and Bill groaned at the feeling, and nodded an immediate ‘yes’. Stan’s own cock twitched in anticipation, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to show them to him. “You gotta close your eyes for me though, ‘kay?” He asked, that faux innocent tone coming back in his voice, Bill couldn’t believe how much he liked when he talked like that. “Sure, baby” Bill agreed, and closed his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he laid in waiting. The tip of Stan’s pointer finger traced against Bill’s soft, plump lower lip, then at his thinner top one, tracing his cupid’s bow, savouring him while he could. Savouring him while he had him in such a vulnerable state, moments like this were few and far between, he liked them. He turned around, and grabbed the handcuffs from behind him. He knew they had no introduction, so he thought they’d just speak for themselves. He traced the cool metal against his chest, and then to his neck. He rattled them in Bill’s ear, softly, but definitely there, undeniably there. Bill was confused still, he didn’t recognize the sound of it, he thought for a second- maybe it was jewelry? He thought that that could maybe be the sound of necklaces being dangled by his ears, but in that context that didn’t make any sense. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan smirked at the confusion, “Any guesses?” He asked, rhetorically though. He knew he didn’t, and Bill could only shake his head, a very definite ‘no’. Stan inched closer to him, taking the lobe of his ear in between his teeth, nipping at it teasingly. Bill sighed when he felt his breath ghost against his skin as he spoke into his ear. His voice was low and sultry, “Open your eyes...” Bill’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked. When he saw them, his face was very readable, but, he was experiencing two emotions at once. Confusion, and desire. “Fuck...” Was all he could say, and Stan’s smirk only grew more prominent. Stan gave them to him, and Bill’s cock grew harder. He knew they came with an invitation, no, it was a plea; to use them in whatever way he wanted. “How’d you get these?” He asked, holding them in his hand, seeing a very distorted version of himself in the reflectiveness of the shiny metal. He inspected them for a moment, unable to say anything more, he bit his lip the more he looked at them. “It doesn’t matter...” Stan spoke in the same tone as before. He hoped to god Bill wouldnt press him further, and he hoped to satan that he wouldn’t connect the dots when the body of the officer he took them from would be broadcasted on the news in the coming weeks. And, in his lust-drunk state, Bill couldn’t agree more. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter at all. All that mattered, was that he wanted these used on him- and who was he to deny him of that? Fuck... so many different ways and scenarios came into his mind at the thought of these. They were definitely going to have a very busy weekend... and it was only Friday night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stan offered him his wrists in front of him, eager to have them cuffed together, trying to suppress a moan at the thought of it. Bill shook his head, he had something else in mind. Stan brought his arms back to his sides, and was a bit disappointed but- he knew that Bill probably had something much better in mind. And, he couldn’t wait to find out what it was. “Turn around baby... let me make good on my promise,” Bill cooed, his hand coming to hold his face, rubbing circles into his blushing cheeks, Stan sighed softly, stretching into his touch, Bill couldn’t believe how eager for it he was already. Stan whimpered as he thought about what he had said... what he was referencing. The ‘promise’ in question was to, “lick all of that icing out of his greedy little hole”. Stan whined, and did as he was told immediately, and in his current position, face to face with Bill’s hard member, pulsingly erect as his breath touched it. “That’s it baby, lemme see that greedy hole of yours,” He praised, spreading his cheeks further apart with his hands, Stan whimpered as he felt increasingly exposed, Bill rolled up the shirt Stan was wearing, though it was more like a dress on him, so he could get an even better look at him. “Fuck... princess... you look so good like this. Can’t wait to eat you out...” Bill thought of an idea on how to use the handcuffs that were in his hand, begging to be used. Stan felt the cool metal clink around his left wrist, and he moaned at the feeling. It felt even better than he could have imagined. He felt the cool metal pinch at his wrists, no doubt leaving marks there for him to admire later. It felt great, but... he didn’t feel anything around his right one. He was a bit confused, he didn’t know what Bill was trying to do. Until, he was painfully aware of it. He felt the metal enclose around his right ankle, forcing even further arched. His face was completely down, and ass as high up as it could go. He moaned at the pain, pleasure, and vulnerability of it all. “You look like such a whore right now... fuck.. I love it...” Bill whispered against his hole, a remark Stan couldn’t even dispute. He couldn’t see himself, but, he was was sure he was right. He slid his tongue into his hole, delighting in the sweet taste of the icing. Stan whimpered, his sounds felt great against Bill’s cock. Bill didn’t even bother teasing at his enterance, he knew how badly he wanted it. He thrust his tongue into his mouth, licking away at the sweet vanilla icing left over from their previous endeavours. Stan let out whimper after whimper, as his lover’s tongue teased inside of him. Bill couldn’t take this anymore, his cock needed some attention. “Make that pretty mouth of yours useful, slut. I know how much you love to have things in your mouth... suck.” He ended his filthy musing with a command. Stan obediently followed, taking him in his mouth, moaning around the length as Bill worked inside of him deeper. Bill kneaded his ass, stroking against the rising handprints that lingered there, Stan was coming undone even quicker than they both expected. This was probably the sloppiest blowjob Stan had ever given him, but he couldn’t help it. He was so tired, he was so fucked out. But, it was so strange, he still had such a craving for cock. His senses burned for it, ever since he’d been turned into a succubus, he craved being used like this 24/7. Quite frankly, he was glad he didn’t live with Bill- because he knew he’d be doing this all day, every day if he could. He worked his cock in and out of his mouth sloppily, making the most obscene, wet sounds with his mouth as he bobbed his head up and and down. He grabbed onto the sheets below him with his free hand, nearing tears as Bill ate him out, taking a break every once and awhile to tell him exactly what he was doing to him- eating him out. He was so filthy, so crass- Stan couldn’t get enough of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill’s tongue continued to slide into his tight ring of muscle, over and over again. Stan groaned around the thick girth of his boyfriend’s cock, his mouthing stretching around it as he choked on it. He forced himself to go deeper and deeper, Bill mewled at the tightness of his throat. Bill’s hips rose to meet his thrusts, pushing his length in all the more deeper. Bill’s tongue matched the pace of the thrusts of his hips, being filled at both ends felt so good- Stan could barely take it. Tears were welling up in his eyes, he was so spent, his body ached everywhere, but yet he craved more. He was so overstimulated he thought he was going to pass out, his cock ached to me touched, precum dripping against Bill’s stomach as he rubbed against it. He was so eager to have any sort of friction, he wanted so desperately to cum. Even though, he knew there was no real point- he’d just want to cum again, and again, and again. He really was as big of a cockslut as Bill said he was. Bill felt Stan’s thighs start to tremble against his face, so close, but not quite there. He dug his nails into his hips, holding him steady so he could tongue fuck him. He moaned into his hole, he tasted so fucking good. Everything about him was so fucking good. “Look at you.. so wet.. you’re dripping everywhere.... so needy” Bill commented, Stan whined at the loss of his tongue prodding at his abused entrance. “You’re so hard from just sucking me off. You’re so needy for my cock... you’ll take it any way you can get it, huh...” He continued, Stan nodded feverishly, moaning around Bill’s cock as his tongue worshiped every inch of it, he didn’t want to take his mouth away from it even for a second. “I wanna keep you like this... all weekend. How’d you like that? Ass up, face down, ready to take my cock at either end. Oh... I bet you’d really like that...” Stan’s mind went blank, he’d love that so much. He knew that that was purely hyperbole, and that he was too nice to do something like that- but, he would have no complaints if he did. “You were made for that, weren’t you, baby?” Bill asked, and he wrapped his hand around his leaking, desperate cock, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his tongue, and his cock in his mouth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Stan knew he wouldn’t last long, and Bill knew it too, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this loud. He was practically screaming around his cock, determined to fit more of it deeper and deeper into his mouth with every scream he made. Bill knew he was nearing his end, too. He pumped his dick quicker, and quicker, losing track of the paces he’d set as his end was quickly approaching, his mind blanking as well. Stan couldn’t take this anymore, it was way too much, and way too good. “I’m cu- oh gosh-“ Stan moaned around Bill’s dick, unturpting his announcement with a moan, pleasure washing over him for the third time that night. Bill stroked him, and ate him out through his orgasm, making him scream. He was so tired, so spent, he quivered as he released all over Bill’s hand, and his stomach too. He sucked on his cock as he came, determined to get him to release soon as well. He wanted to taste his release on his cum, have it overwhelm him, he wanted to choke on it. “Fuck... that’s it... just like that princess... fuck...” Bill could barely say, sentences were getting increasingly harder to formulate. Finally, Stan got his wish. Bill came hard and fast into his mouth, and Stan sucked and bobbed on his cock through his climax, milking his cock dry, desperate for all he had to offer. Some of his release dripped out through the sides of his mouth, but he was eager to lap it all up with his tongue, not wanting to miss a single drop of it. He felt like such a fucking whore but- he didn’t even care. Bill undid the handcuffs connecting his wrist and his ankle, rubbing the flesh there soothingly. He pulled Stan up next to him possessively, knowing he was probably too weak to do it himself. “Hi babydoll...” He whispered, Stan opened his eyes, “H-hi,” He could barely say, and Bill smiled at his attempt to speak. He was tired too, but he didn’t show it as much as Stan did. He wanted to take care of him. “You did so good for me... you look so pretty right now... fuck... you’re good,” He praised mindlessly, knowing Stan couldn’t give a response right now, he didn’t expect one. “Let’s run you a bath, hmm? I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He asked, and Stan nodded happily, he felt so loved, so taken care of. Bill laughed, “Yah, I thought you would.” He kissed his cheeks soothingly, letting him rest for a few more minutes before he moved him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Want me to carry you to the bathroom?” He asked, and Stan nodded again, smiling more noticeably now that he had the energy to. “Alright baby, I’ll carry you,” He agreed, wrapping him up in his strong arms, holding him close to him, carrying him bridal style. Stan, in any other frame of mind, would have objected to being carried in such a way, or, being carried at all. He would’ve walked himself to the damn shower, even if he probably would have fallen because of how tired his legs were. But, now, being taken care of sounded pretty good. Stan slightly quivered in his arms, he was so tired, but in the best way possible. “Hey Bill,” He murmured, his voice barely even loud enough to be considered a whisper, but, Bill heard it regardless. “Yah, doll?”, “You got all of the icing out of me... but I’m still so full of your cum...” Stan whispered, he needed a shower. As much as he liked the feeling, he did feel filthy, and not to mention very sticky. It hit Stan just then, this would be their first time ever showering together, and he was a bit sad that he wouldn’t be fully conscience enough to fully experience it. Bill processed what had left his lips for a moment, and how strained and soft his voice was. Fuck, was what Stan said hot to hear, “Fuck, princess- Don’t say stuff like that...” And Stan only let out a tired grunt, which was his exhausted version of a laugh, he knew damn well he wasn’t serious; they both did. He felt sleep start to pull at him, so he gave it, he closed his eyes, and started to drift off during the short walk from Bill’s room, to the bathroom. Bill smiled adoringly at him, he looked so at peace, so content; “I love you,” Bill whispered, even though he knew Stan couldn’t hear him, he meant it as sincerely as though he could.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>last smut scene was inspired by one of my all time favourite authors: animefanime on AO3, they don’t write for IT, i would feel terrible if i didn’t credit them though </p>
<p>check out their work if you’re in the death note fandom (me outing myself as a weeb AND a death note stan in the year 2020)</p>
<p>leave kudos if you enjoyed?? pls?? this took a lot out of me to write LMAO</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. ch. 5 𖤐 chew me up & spit me out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in which bill learns that stan is deadly, and does not care at all;</p>
<p>and is more than happy to burn some bridges along the way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning: towards the middleish endish, a paragraph has mentions of self harm, so if that makes you uncomfy skip that!!! all of the other chapters don’t mention it, so they’re safe to read &lt;3 </p>
<p>a lot of this dialogue was taken from the movie! this is a jennifer’s body au after all</p>
<p>the next chapter is like 35k words so get ready for that :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❝𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞<br/>
𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞❞</p>
<p> </p>
<p>𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟓𝟓</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The biology quiz they probably just failed was the last thing on each of their minds but, still, they talked about it anyways. They walked out of their class, cursing their teacher and the days that they were born- it was thank kind of quiz. “Holy fuck, that quiz nearly killed me,” Eddie groaned, happy to finally be out of that classroom. “It did kill me, I’m dead. That quiz was my cause of death and I’m holding our teacher fucking responsible,” Richie shared his feelings exactly, he normally was terrible at biology, and this was a particularly off day. “I d-don’t even k-know w-what t-the p-pancreas is. L-let ah-alone w-w-what t-th-the fuh-fuck d-d-duodenum is,” Bill laughed, agreeing with them both. They knew that what he had said was basically, a ‘me three!’ type of statement, but, other than that they couldn’t quite understand him. As his fear came back, so did his stutter. His stutter was mostly gone by this age, but, given the paranoia he felt, it came back in full force. They’d never heard it so bad, in fact. The fears of pennywise possibly returning brought back old habits. He’d been smoking a lot more, too- he was falling apart. Eddie and Richie wanted to tell him that it wasn’t actually pennywise, just to get him to stop being so afraid of having to fight him again- but, that would arise many challenges of its own. Eddie scoffed at Bill’s and Richie’s agreement, friendly in nature though, obviously. “I have actual reason to be pissed off. I’m the only one out of the three of you who actually studied.” He pointed out, eliciting eye rolls from both of the boys he was walking with. “Hey, we studied! We all went over to my place and we studied- you know that, you were there last night!” Richie argued back, as they turned the corner of the busy hallway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lunch bell had just rang, people were swarming the hallways like flies, and foraging through their lockers for food like raccoons. They were making the rounds to each other’s lockers, starting off with Eddie’s who’s was the closest to their biology class, and eventually would meet up with their friends at their regular lunch table. As they did every single day, since their first day of ninety grade. Eddie scoffed again, and was the one to eye roll this time. “No. I studied, you two... you two just smoked and marathoned Star Wars all night.” and, neither one could argue because he was right. “Puh-puh-piss o-off, Eh-Eddie,” Bill laughed, good natured too and not at all meaning it. He couldn’t even make it through one word without stuttering this time, it was sad to see. Eddie and Richie gave each other a knowing look, a look Bill was too preoccupied in his thoughts to pick up on. They needed to tell him, and right now was as good a time as any. “Hey, um- hey Bill, me and Eddie have... something to tell you.” Richie croaked out, very meekly. He, with every fibre of his being, did not want to have this conversion. Bill’s interest was peaked, and, suspicion was heighten. He had no idea what he needed to say to him, and, why he needed such an introduction. He couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t just say it, why did he need a... disclosure of sorts? Why did Richie need to add a forewarning before he said his piece. Little did they know, with his new super hearing, Stanley was listening in on their whole conversation a few feet away, though obscured from their view by a crowd he stood behind. He needed to interject, immediately. If he waited for just a moment, his entire would would crash down around him in an instant. Everything he loved, the relationship he cherished so deeply, set on fire and gasoline poured on top of it to sustain the burning. He couldn’t have that, the only time his world would be turned to ash- was when he was inevitably sent to hell. He needed to interrupt them, and fast. While also making it look natural, this was going to be... a challenge to say the very least. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley ran up to them, and act as if he was clueless to what they were talking about. Though, Eddie and Richie saw through that act of false folly. And, as they eyed him up and down, they notice his familiar glow was back. Though it gave him the appearance of a ravishingly, alluring beauty; Richie and Eddie weren’t fooled by it anymore. They knew the evils behind it now. Though, Bill did not. They saw the way he looked at him, he fell for it hook, line and sinker. They could tell their previous quiz was the furthest thing on his mind. Forget their quiz from hell, Bill was busy day dreaming about his boyfriend from hell that was now standing in front of him. “Hey, guys, do you mind if I steal Bill away from you guys... just for a moment?” Stanley asked in a faux sing song kind of voice, masking his true intentions with a fake innocence. Richie and Eddie knew he was playing at, but, had no choice but to step onto his chess board. They said nothing, they couldn’t disagree because- that would be too suspicious. They stayed silent, until, Eddie reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. Though, not all because of his own free will. Stanley was compelling him to do it, his alluringness bewitched them both, overwhelmed them both. Being one of his pawns made them feel powerless. They knew for a moment what it felt like to be his victim, completely under his control for that second. Bill smiled at him, fondly, and kissed his forehead as they both said their good byes to Richie and Eddie, promising to see them again at lunch as they always did. Stanley took him by the arm, and dragged Bill with him with purpose and intent. Bill was a lot more excited to see what he had in store, rather than Richie and Eddie’s foreboding nature. He was following where ever Stan was leading him to, happily following at that. He missed him dearly, their first two periods apart felt like years until the sweet release of lunch together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley turned behind for a brief moment, and looked at Richie and Eddie’s faces individually. Though, the look he gave each of them was the same. It was a smirk, a taunting smirk, as both Bill, and their opportunity to tell him his true nature had slipped through their fingers once again. Both Richie and Eddie knew what that look meant, and registered its context. Sure, he’d get to go a few more hours without Bill knowing, but, he wouldn’t get to go the whole day. Richie and Eddie would make sure of that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley grabbed his hand tighter, and as Bill followed behind him, he became more sure of where he was leading him. Because it was such a small school, often, when things broke, the board would just leave things as they were until the school had the money to fix them. Case in point: the vending machine by Bill’s locker had broken 2 weeks into freshman year, they were seniors now, and the caution tape had yet to come down from the machine. States of disrepair remained unchanged in a place where time stood still. That was the same for their bathrooms. There was a bathroom a few hallways away from where Eddie’s locker was, that had plumbing and serious vandalism problems. The school couldn’t afford to fix the plumbing, and they got tired constantly repainting what kids wrote in there, (apparently the school didn’t have it in the budget to buy paint cans), so rather than doing anything about those problems, they put it out of use. They put a big ‘Out or Order’ sign on the door, and taped it up with bright yellow caution tape. It had been that way since before the losers ever came to the school, years before they enrolled. Though the caution tape had been long since trampled and ripped, it did its job at keeping people out. No one ever came in there, except for when they had things to do they didn’t want anyone to know about. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which, most teenagers in a sleepy little town like Derry would never dream of doing. People only really came in there to buy drugs, or to indulge their sexual appetites while at school. Their friend group used it for both of those purposes; though only Richie and Bill used it for the former. Bill remembered the first time he and Stanley used it for the latter; they’d fucked after an abstinence assembly, for the irony of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Bill grew more and more eager the closer they got, because Bill knew he wasn’t dragging him there because he wanted to buy weed. This would be a much needed way to break up the day. They finally arrived at the abandoned bathroom after what seemed like an eternity of lead up, and they both were so happy once they heard the handle click as Stanley turned it. They walked in quickly, and immediately shut the door behind them as they entered; careful to not slam it too harshly to cause a loud noise. Neither of them wanted to draw too much attention to themselves, and the fact they went inside. Rightly so, because of all the activities that went on, and the type of activities that went on; the bathroom didn’t have the nicest reputation, and it wasn’t a very good idea to be caught inside, much less, even in its general vicinity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The death toll had skyrocketed to nearly 30 in such a short time; and Bill hated that he knew that. He was trying so hard to keep his eyes away from the news, but it was everywhere, news updates on the town’s situation were plastered everywhere. It was hard to stay away from the only headline in town, not much happened in Derry, so when something did, the town discussed it for all it was worth. It was inescapable, it was unavoidable. Bill had never been more terrified, and his stuttering was at an all time high because of it. All of his progress had gone completely down the drain; childhood habits coming back because of the resurgence and reawakening of childhood fears. To say he needed this distraction, was an understatement. He needed Stanley, and whatever he wanted from him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley got on his tippy toes, and Bill thought that that was beyond adorable, their height difference became so apparent in times like these. Stan summoned the confidence to push him against the door. He wasn’t used to being domineering in any way, but, something had come over him. He needed Bill so badly; he needed Bill so badly all the time. Bill’s hand rested on the door handle, he was a bit taken aback by what Stanley had done because it was completely out of his character, but, it was welcomed. Stan kissed his neck softly, and his lips lingered. He could smell his blood beneath his skin, and he started to get dizzy off of the lust radiating from him. He  nipped at his skin, and used all of his self restrain to not go to further. Bill let out a soft sigh, a whimper of sorts as he wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist, pulling him closer to him. “Lock the door,” he whispered in his ear, impatient urgency in his voice, he couldn’t wait a second longer, and the need for his blood was clouding his mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill’s hand moved and fumbled with the handle of the door behind him, and locked it. Bill traced the outline of his cupid’s bow, and then ran his finger along his bottom lip. He tilted his chin up, so their eyes could meet. He moved his hand to his hip again, holding him close, he held him tightly, and Stan ghosted a subtle moan against his lips at his touch. He stared at his lips for a moment before moving closer, both of them drunk off of anticipation. Bill brushed their lips together, and Stanley’s breath hitched at the gesture, but quickly kissed back. Bill ran his tongue over the outline of his lips with his tongue, and bit at Stanley’s bottom lip, taking it into his mouth. Stan shuddered at the feeling of Bill’s hands travelling lower, first just tracing circles into the skin of his hips and lower back. He moved his knee between his thighs in response, lightly rubbing against his clothed member. Bill groaned into his mouth, and his light touches changed, and now he was possessively gripping at his ass. Stan wrapped his arms around his neck, running his fingers deep into his lover’s auburn hair. His fingers briefly touching the exposed skin of his neck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill traced every one of his teeth with his tongue, as if wanting to memorize every detail of his mouth. Bill tucked his hands beneath the fluffy fabric of Stanley’s pullover knitted sweater, his fingers ran up the skin of his back, raking his nails against him as he continued to kiss him. Stanley gasped in surprise at the feeling of his cold hands underneath his clothes. His hands weren’t necessarily cold, but freezing in comparison to the warmness his body radiated now. He whimpered as he ran his knee against his noticeably hardening member, “I want you so badly,” He whispered against Bill’s lips, but, he didn’t go to kiss him again. He just took his bottom lip between his teeth, teasingly biting at it, before releasing it, and peppering his kisses from his lip to his ear. His warm breath ghosted against his face as he waited for a reply. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill was taken aback by what he said, but by no means didn’t welcome it. “Oh, r-really?” He replied, trying to keep his cool, but his wavering voice betrayed his true feelings. It broke his heart that he still stuttered, and that he was the one who inadvertently caused it. He was determined to make him forget about his worries, even if that temporary ignorance was fleeting. Stanley smirked against the skin of his neck at the reaction he caused, and the fact that he was getting harder beneath him. “Mhmm,” He confirmed, taking the lobe between his teeth, relishing in the sighs escaping from Bill’s lips. “I’m already so hard for you... feel,” He told him, grabbing his hand and guided it to his own groin, and Bill lost his breath when he felt how truly hard he was for him. He increased the speed in which he was rubbing his bulge with his knee, trying to emphasize the confession he was about to say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “I’ve been thinking about your cock down my throat since 1st period...” he mused quietly, before nipping at the skin behind his ear with the same amount of softness his voice had, “Can I please suck you off?” He continued, speaking with a bit more need. The tone of his voice and what he said hit him like a punch in the stomach, completely taking him off guard. All he could do was feverishly shake his head yes, words got caught in his throat, as well as his rushed breaths. What Stanley said was by no means an exaggeration, Bill fucking him was often most, if not all, he thought about. Fucking him was the closest he could ever get to feeding on all of his lust and all of his fears; but feeding off of satisfaction could sustain him for now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he wasn’t with Bill, he still occupied his all the space of his mind, and was the subject of his thoughts and all of his carnal desires. He couldn’t even pay attention in his favourite classes, accounting, calculus and physics, most of the time. His mind would always wander, and be consumed with thoughts of Bill; their previous encounters, and plans for their next ones.  He bit his lip and tried to suppress the moans already forming on his tongue; twitching in his pants at the thought of sucking him off at school, when he had just spent most of the day thinking about it. He could hardly wait for Bill to make him choke on it, he could hardly wait for the feeling of his knees on the cold, hard tile. He bit at his neck once more, leaving a lovebite on his pale skin which made the purple colour stand out more. He flicked his tongue against the abused skin, Bill could think of nothing to say, he quickly became dizzy, and rational thought was fading from his mind; all he could think about was his lover. Bill smirked, “God, l-look at you...” he groaned. “You r-really do w-want me b-bad, huh?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill moved Stanley and led him to the sinks, and grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to look at himself. He pinned him against the counters, and pressed his hardening member against his ass, Stanley let out a low moan. “S-So d-d-desperate for it,” and Stanley nodded, try to look away from him in the reflection. Bill didn’t like that, he softly grabbed his throat to steady where he looked; and Stanley looked at himself in the eyes. He watched the blush flourish on his cheeks as Bill held him in such a way. “Such a slut...” He murmured, and Stanley said nothing but a mewled in response. “Say it.” Bill demanded, softly and gruffly. Stanley mewled again, he loved it when Bill spoke to him like that.. and there was something so hot about Bill making him degrade himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a slut,” He said as he was told, biting his lip to suppress a moan- he didn’t want Bill to know how much he was enjoying this. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the feeling of saying it, and the way Bill was looking at him as he did. Bill wrapped his arms tightly around his torso, and rested his chin on the top of his head. “S-Say it again,” He murmured, Stanley melted at the smoothness of his voice- he’d probably do anything Bill told him to as long as he said it exactly like that. “I’m...” Stanley started to say, but Bill made it so difficult. His hands snakes under his sweater, teasing him with feather light touches before rubbing his nipples between his fingers. Stanley let out a whimper, Bill brought his lips to his neck again, biting harshly as Stanley tried to finish his sentence. “... a filthy little slut,” he continued, glowing with embarrassment but loving every second of it. “M-My filthy little....” Bill corrected, waiting for Stanley to finish his sentence. “Slut... -ah!” He moaned, as Bill tweaked his hardened buds while softly biting at the skin of his jawline. Bill grabbed him by the waist and turned him around, kissing him harshly and pulling away just as fast. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“F-fuck,” Bill breathed, and Stanley used that as word of encouragement of sorts, sinking to his knees as he spoke, kneeling in front of him. He was now face to face with Bill’s hard member, though painfully confined by the fabric of his jeans. Stanley’s beautiful face so close to his member still made Bill lightheaded, even after all this time. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have him all to himself, after all this time he was still too good to be true. He ran his nose against the zipper of his jeans, making his way up, so he could take the puller between his teeth, and pulling it down. Then, nimbly he slipped the button through its hole with his tongue as well, completely undoing his pants. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, he slid them down from Bill’s waist, and let them pool just bellow his knees. He rubbed him through his tented boxers, and licked at the precum already on the fabric. Bill sighed, and his eyes became increasingly halflidded at the feeling, he ran his hands through Stanley’s hair bellow him, pulling his curls taunt between his fingers. Stanley moaned at the mix of pleasure and pain that always came with that action, it was one of his favourite things about giving him head. “F-Fuck.... p-please...” Bill murmured, this teasing was driving him insane, losing himself in everything Stanley was doing, and in what he had yet to do. Anticipation was eating away at him. Finally, Stanley obliged fully, and pulled his boxers down. letting them fall to where his jeans lay. Bill groaned at the feeling of the air of the room brushing against his cock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley placed a few kisses on the head of his member, and Bill struggled to keep his breath stable at the small touches. He gripped his hair even tighter as Stanley replaced his kisses with little kitten licks to his tip, savouring his precum as it fell on his tongue. And finally, he took him into his mouth completely, and Bill dug his nails into his scalp in surprise, and Stanley mewled at the pain, gasping around his length. Bill made a strained noise, biting back a moan as Stanley dipped his tongue teasingly into his slit. “Fuck... p-princess,” Bill rasped, melting at the feeling of his lips around him fully. He bobbed his head up and down around his cock, wrapping his hand around what he couldn’t fit into his mouth, stroking it in time with the movements of his mouth. He tried his best to deep throat him; swallowing around him. He was trying to suppress his gag reflex to the best of his ability, something he has gotten pretty good at with the help of experience. He gently scraped his teeth against the skin of his length as he sunk deeper onto it, swirling his tongue around his length until his lips became reddened and a bit swollen, slick with spit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“G-god, you’re s-so g-g-good f-for me, f-fuck,” He praised, throwing his head back against his shoulders, his adams apple bobbed in his throat as he struggled to swallow, and struggled to speak coherently. Stanley relished in his praises, coming alive at the sound of his compliments. “S-such a s-s-slut f-for me, th-thinking about s-sucking me off during c-class,” He murmured through pants, one of his hands trailing downwards to stroke Stanley’s cheek lovingly, a sharp contrast between the degrading nature of his words. Stanley couldn’t tell which he liked more, being praised or being talked down to. But, he supposed he could like both. His eyes fluttered open, and looked into his with intense eye contact as he nodded his head in agreement; he couldn’t dispute what he said because he knew it to be true. The feeling of being used by him in such a way was becoming too much for him, he was becoming painfully hard. His cock pressed against the confines of his pants. With a shaky hand, he struggled to undo the top button of his jeans, and unzip them as well. He pulled them down and took his underwear with them. He took his own member in his hand, and stroked it in time with his movement on Bill’s member. He groaned around Bill’s cock as he visualized how truly desperate he probably looked, coming undone just by sucking him off. He whined in pure satisfaction as he ran his thumb across the head of his cock, catching the precum starting to drip from his twitching member. Bill noticed this as well, and it was arousing beyond belief. He was so hard, just at the act of sucking his cock, he hadn’t even touched him yet. He intertwined his fingers further into his curls, gripping and pulling at his hair tighter, forcing his cock further down his throat. Stanley took it well, but, he was taken aback. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sh-Shit, l-look at you... t-touching yourself at the th-thought of suh-sucking me off. God, you’re s-so hot,” Bill grunted, staring down at Stanley and watched him shiver at his words. He was a bit embarrassed to be caught, so he stopped for a split second, Bill tugged at his hair in displeasement. “No, b-baby. Let me w-watch you j-jerk yourself off, cmon honey, d-don’t st-st-stop.” He cooed, and Stanley had no choice to comply, his voice was so sweet and flowed so smoothly, he immediately was lost in the tremors of his sinful words. So, he started stroking himself again, tightening his grip around his length, groaning in pleasure around Bill’s cock as he continued to suck him off. “L-Look at how w-well you fuh-follow instructions. Always d-doing what I t-tell you...” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had been exploring differences in power dynamics when they’re being intimate as of late. Especially since they’d been intimate a lot more frequently lately; because Stanley had such an insatiable appetite for it. Bill didn’t know why he suddenly did; but Stanley obviously knew why. It had a supernatural, unholy explanation he tried his best not to think about; and tried to prolong explaining to Bill. Not that Bill objected to it at all, or put much thought into his increased libido; it meant he got laid more often, so he didn’t really care. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley loved to be talked down to in such a way, he liked having no power in situations, because often he felt that he had too much power in his day to day. Knowing he could kill anyone who crossed his path and trying to make sense of that, and control that; was overwhelming in the best of times. And soul crushing in the worst. It was freeing in a way, to be so degraded, in such a sweet way. He trusted Bill enough to give him all of the control. “God, l-look at you, you l-love being used like this.” He said, thrusting further into his mouth, gripping at his hair and fucking into his heat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley nodded once more, his end soon approaching, he could sense it in his core. Bill bit his lip at Stanley melting at his words underneath him. “S-Say it, s-say you’re m-my l-little fuh-fuckdoll.” Bill commanded, his voice faltering as Stanley’s pace became slower, and he was getting sloppier. He was a bit self conscious about how his dirty talk would sound because of his stutter, but it was as if Stanley didn’t hear it. That was something Bill loved and appreciated about him, was that he could always put his stutter past him, he always felt he owed him so much because of that. “I’m your little fuckdoll, Bill!” He exclaimed through strained mewls, speaking with Bill’s cock still in his mouth, and saliva leaked from the corners of his lips, escaping as he tried to speak. The visual of that was more arousing than Bill could’ve imagined, he nearly came right then and there. He could see a strained look on Stanley’s face, he knew him well enough to know when he was about to release; and he was about to. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Y-You’re such a g-good b-buh-boy, don’t c-cum until I say s-so, okay b-babydoll?” and Stanley nodded in enthusiastic agreement, loving giving all control over to Bill, not even having a say in when he gets to finish. Bill liked that too, because recently, he felt the only thing he had control over in his life was fucking Stanley. There was nothing scary about him, or unexpected about him- it was simple... or at least, as of right now. And as of right now, Stanley gave him something he could lose himself in, he let him forget. “G-God, you c-can’t even w-wait until th-the end of the d-day for it... such a f-fucking c-cockslut,” Bill mused, his hips bucked against Stan’s face as he continued to thrust into his mouth. “I would do this all day if I could,” Stanley admitted sheepishly, and as soon as he said that, Bill knew he was gone. His seductive voice, raspy because of the abuse his throat, hit him hard. It hit him like a tone of bricks as soon as it left his lover’s swollen lips. “Fuck, I’m so cl-close. Can I f-finish on your f-face, princess?” He asked, and Stanley lightly shook his head no. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I need your cum in my mouth...please,” He told him, pleading through soft mewls. “God, y-you’re incredible,” he whispered. A few more thrusts, and Bill came undone completely. Spilling his release into his mouth, resting against the wall as he came hard. He dug his nails into his scalp as he screamed his name, failing to keep his voice down, even though he probably should have so no one would hear him. Stanley swallowed every drop of his cum that he gave him, tears welling up in his eyes as it hit the back of his throat. Bill mumbled words of praises as he came down from his high, as Stanley stroked him through his orgasm. “I’m almost there!!” Stanley yelled, begging to cum; his tone of voice radiating with need, and hinting at wanting permission from his lover. Bill caught his breath, trying his best to collect his thoughts in order to respond, and still keep his domineering edge. “C-cum whenever you need t-to, honey.” He told him, and Stanley sighed in thanks. A few more strokes to his cock, and he was gone as well. He came hard with Bill still in his mouth, moaning around his spent cock. He came into his own hand, moaning a mix of curse words and Bill’s name as he did so. Bliss overwhelmed both of them, they were both so happy and felt so dizzy, drunk off of pleasure. After a bit, and they caught their breaths and came down from their highs, Bill’s conscience kicked in as soon as the postcoital ecstasy inevitably wore off. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re s-sure you... l-like to be t-t-talked to l-like th-th-that, r-right?” He asked, care very evident in his voice, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He wanted to be absolutely sure, and wanted to make sure he didn’t have a change of heart. Stanley smiled fondly up at him; he knew he didn’t deserve his kindness, or a boy like him in general. He had no idea how to even put into words how much he liked it, and didn’t want to put into words why he liked it so much. “Of course I do,” He stated simply, trying to speak with absolute surety so he’d  know he was being honest, sometimes he didn’t take his word for things, and needed to be told twice to be absolutely sure. But, that was flattering. He did that because he cared so much. Bill nodded, and smiled back at him just as fondly. “Th-thank you for letting me t-take my m-mind off of everything t-that’s g-going on, you’re the b-best,” and Stanley was immediately consumed with guilt, and figured, it was the least he could do, considering that he in fact was “what was going on”. Bill and Stanley pulled up their pants and zipped their flys, cleaning themselves up so they could be presentable again. Bill helped Stanley to his feet, and placed a chaste kiss to lips, smiling as their lips met. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill bent down so that his lips could linger on the column of his throat, right in the centre of his skin. His warm breath tickled against his neck, and he felt want grow in the depths of his being all over again- Stanley was truly so whipped for Bill, he wanted him all the time. Bill took in his scent, savoured the way his skin grew hotter, savoured the way Stanley smelt, savoured the light sheen of sweat where his lips touched, and smirked when he felt Stanley swallow to gain composer, a habit he got when he was flustered. Bill felt his adam’s apple slighly bob when he swallowed hard to hold onto the bit of composer he had, wanting to keep from succumbing to the call of his lust and ask Bill to do this all over again. It made Bill want Stanley terribly, but he knew he couldn’t have him like that again- there just wasn’t time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had to meet Richie and Eddie, and that commitment gnawed at him as he sat there, enjoying the simplicities of Stanley’s company. His teeth raked against his skin, careful to leave no marks except for faint red lines that faded as quickly as they appeared. That was just in an effort to hear murmur’s of Stanley’s sweet sounds, the sounds that Bill loved to listen to. He’d listen to them all day if he could, and for a split second he toyed with the idea of staying there all day. Or maybe ditching school entirely, just for a day, and pretend that nothing was happening. Maybe even move completely, move away and it would just be the two of them. Bill knew he couldn’t do that, but he wanted that. He wanted that more than anything in the world, and for a split second, he indulged himself in those fantasies, in those daydreams. Stanley’s intoxicating presence made Bill dare to dream, and hope that things could be better. He kissed him again, and wished he didn’t have to pull away. He wished that this could be their reality, forever and always, just the two of them. Because it didn’t matter where they were, as long as they were together. But they couldn’t be alone forever, but their own solidarity allowed them to pretend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“B-Bye Stan, I g-gotta g-go s-see, Rich-ch-ch-chie and Eh-Eh-Eh-Eddie. B-But, I’ll s-see you at-t-t-t lu-lu-lunch,” Bill whispered, though there was no possibility of being overheard. He got up from against the wall, and turned to leave. His hand grabbed the door handle, about to pull, and unlocked it. Stanley watched with baited breath, and, an instinct took over- he couldn’t let him. “Bill!!! Wait!!” He yelled, hoping his nervousness wasn’t apparent in his tone, because, he couldn’t risk behaving suspicious right now. Bill turned to look at him, he was surprised and a bit confused, but not suspicious. He could never be suspicious of him. He was confused, the way he looked at him and spoke to him was as if he wasn’t going to see him ever again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can’t go and talk to them!” Stanley said, though, it wasn’t a command, it was more like a plea. If they told Bill what he was, he didn’t know how Bill would react, but he would bet his life that it wouldn’t be good. Bill’s hand let go of the doorknob, and hope fluttered in Stanley’s stomach. Maybe, just maybe, he was getting somewhere with him. Silence fell on both of them for a bit, as Bill was at a loss for what to say. He didn’t know why he was acting in such a way. Did he know something that he didn’t? He finally replied, “I th-think I sh-sh-should, St-Stan. They s-s-sounded v-very, uh-uh-uh-uh-“ “Urgent?” Stanley finished for him, only love in his voice, there was never even a hint of malice when he finished his sentences when he was having a hard time finishing them himself. And, Bill was always thankful every time, he never was trying to correct him or patronize him, he was always so helpful and kind. He nodded, and smiled sheepishly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Y-Yah. B-but, it’s l-like I s-said, I’ll b-be b-back s-s-soon, s-so, j-just go d-down and s-sit with-th th-the others. I’ll b-be back s-soon,” He reassured, he put his hand back on the door handle, and grasped it firmly. All of Stan’s hope was lost, he knew he was going. In a last effort, he called out to him, he spoke so quickly, trying to get him to stay. “But... I’ll miss you!” He lied, he was grasping at straws. Bill fell for it, but, he was still going. “And, I’ll m-miss you. B-But, it would b-be r-rude to kuh-kuh-keep them w-waiting. It’ll p-probably b-be just, 5 m-minutes or so,” Bill answered, and Stanley knew his word was final. Bill couldn’t understand what the fuss was about, he didn’t know why he was so opposed to him leaving. Stan also had a funny feeling that whatever they were going to tell him... would take a lot longer than 5 minutes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Silence fell on both of them once again, but, Bill knew that Stan registered and accepted what he had said. “Good b-bye, Stan, I love y-you,” Bill said as he opened the door, he stood in the doorway long enough to hear Stanley’s soft reply. “I love you too,” He replied back, and with that, Bill was doomed. Stanley had sealed his own fate, and even signed it with an ‘i love you’. Stanley stood there alone, wondering if that could possibly be the last time they ever said that to each other. Sadness washed over him at the thought, and regret came over him as he realized just how real of a possibility it was. He felt like he was going to be sick, he felt like he was going to cry. But, he supposed it would be better if Bill knew the truth, he just wish he had the guts to tell him himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill ran through the now mostly vacant halls, trying to make his way to Eddie’s locker where he hoped that they would still be. Not that Derry Highschool would be a big school to search, or that it would take very long to find them. He just hoped they were there for the sake of convenience. “H-Hey guys!!” Bill called, waving to them to get their attention as he approached them. They both smiled at him, but, it wasn’t the usual smile they gave him. They weren’t happy, they were sad- and, they looked at him with a lot of pity, and, were smiling despite that. Bill got a weird feeling at the ominousness of their reaction to him being there, but, still, he pressed on. “Hi,” Richie said, flatly. “Hey, Bill,” Eddie murmured; just as flatly as his boyfriend, if not more so. Bill quickly felt that his cheerful hello was a bit out of place given their somber nature, and, quickly changed his tone and demeanour. They clearly didn’t want to be having this meeting even though they were the ones that called it, it didn’t make sense to Bill. Stan was acting odd as well, it was as if everyone knew something he didn’t- which, unbeknownst to him, was the truth. They all did know something he didn’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did Stan want?” Eddie asked, he was suspicious, not confused. He wondered if Stan had told him his secret, but, he didn’t think that was the case. He wouldn’t be so... cheerful if that was the case. Bill felt blush creep onto his cheeks, his face felt hot as he answered, “N-nothing,”. Richie wanted to toy with him just a bit, because, he knew in a few minutes the time for joking would very much be over. “Jeez, Big Bill, I dunno, he must’ve wanted something,” He looked at him, and Bill knew what he was trying to do. He blushed a bit more, he was never one for talking about such things... while he was sober. “Yah, what did you guys talk about?” Eddie asked, unaware of where Richie’s line of questioning was going as he was much too innocent to pick up on his suggestion and double entendres. He was trying to get answers out of him related to Stanley telling him he was a succubus. He didn’t know, much less care what Richie was on about. Richie looked over to Eddie, then back to Bill. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I dunno, Eds. Something tells me they didn’t do much talking,” Richie said, and Bill’s straight face turned to a smirk, and he nodded, letting Richie know that his suspicions were correct. Eddie finally clued in, and scoffed at them once more. Richie offered him a high five, which, Bill took. Anything to ease the tension. And Eddie looked at him in almost complete disbelief; it was as if he forgot their whole purpose for meeting with him. Richie just shrugged his shoulders, “Ugh, you two are so gross. Come on, Richie and I have to tell you something,” Eddie announced as he grabbed Bill by the wrist, and pulled him along to where he and Richie were going. Bill went willingly, but, a bit begrudgingly. He was tired of getting pulled places today, if he was being honest. The halls were mostly empty as it was lunch time, so, they had their pick of places to go privately. They chose an area in their atrium, looking over the front entryway to the school. The table they sat at stretched between one staircase to the other so more than one group could sit at it. But, it was just them there today. The sun peered through the big windows in the ceiling up above, it gave a faux, warm feeling. It was false comfort, false happiness. What they were about to tell him was not warm at all, it was cold and it was scary, and it was in cold blood, as well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill slid in and sat at one side of the table, and Richie and Eddie sat on the other side together. Bill didn’t notice until now but, Richie had his backpack on him. Bill couldn’t help but wonder if what they had to tell him somehow pertained to the contents of what was inside. Only time would tell, he’d supposed, and, he was about to find out. Eddie grabbed the bag from Richie, and unzipped it, and pulled out from what Bill could tell, 2 very thick, old books. The spines looked brittle and the covers looked like they could fall apart if you touched them the wrong way, they looked very delicate. He didn’t know why Richie had them, Bill knew he wasn’t a reader. And, those two books didn’t look school assigned, which troubled him even further. Richie didn’t do his reading that was assigned to him... let alone go out looking for more books to read. This was getting way too suspicious for Bill’s liking. Silence still covered all three of them up like a blanket. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie sighed, and nervously tapped on the table in front of him. He closed his eyes, and stayed in silence for a moment, trying to figure out how best to phrase what he needed to. He couldn’t lie to him anymore, no more lies- and lying by omission, was still a lie. He just came right out and said it, his mind was still racing faster than he could process, but, the truth was a good place to start. “Stanley’s evil.” Eddie blurted out, Richie was taken by surprise that he just came right out and said it. His eyes darted from Eddie, to Bill, to try and read their faces. It had been already decided that Eddie was going to do most of the speaking; since Richie didn’t really think before he spoke- and now he was very, very happy they already arranged that. He certainly didn’t want to explain that statement to Bill, especially considering how highly he thought of Stanley. He looked at Bill, and he’d never seen him look so confused, and so hurt. He wasn’t mad yet, he was just hurt he could say such a thing about someone he loved so much. He was especially confused as to why he said that; Stanley was all of their friends, this criticism was seemingly out of nowhere. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“W-What the fuck- how cuh-could you even s-say s-someth-thing like th-that?” Bill asked, in complete and udder shock. The echoes of his stutters broke both of their hearts, and Eddie immediately regretted his phrasing, so, he clarified. “No like, actually evil. I’m not insulting him, he’s actually evil. Not high school evil.” Eddie explained, and noticed Bill’s expression was unchanging, which was understandable. Though Eddie said he wasn’t insulting him, Bill took it as one. Bill was more confused than ever, and he was starting to get offended on Stanley’s behalf, and he was quickly becoming angry that they had the nerve to say such things while he wasn’t around to defend himself. “We’ve been through the occult section at the liabrary... 5 times, and-“ Richie interjected, having felt awkward for just sitting there by Eddie’s side silently. Bill furrowed his eyebrows in deeper confusion, unsure why that was a relevant fact to mention. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our l-library h-has an occult s-section?” Bill wondered, he wasn’t stuttering as horribly, and Richie hoped that that was a good sign. “It’s really small,” Richie replied, and Bill nodded lazily, trying to make sense of this all. Eddie reached to his lap and got one of the old books, and quickly flipped to a page that was marked off with a orange post-it note. Bill grew unsettled at the fact that it was marked off, it suggested that this was much more planned than he originally thought. It was as though they knew something much more sinister than they had led on, and that they were dancing around it. With shaky hands, Eddie reached across the table and passed him the brittle book, the book was open to the page Eddie marked. Bill took it from him, and handed it gingerly, it looked as though it come come apart at the wrong touch, his eyes widened as he saw the heading of the page. Demonic Transference? What did that mean? Ans why were they showing him this in connection with Stan? They were causing him to have more questions, rather than answer his existing ones. He didn’t like feeling so clueless, and so in the dark. “You have to read this,” Eddie tried to speak calmly, his calmness was almost a warning, to prepare him for what he was about to see. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Demonic t-trans-?” Bill asked, his voice shaking nearly as much as he was, this was all starting to become increasingly more real and he didn’t like it at all. “Demonic transference. It’s something that happens when you have to sacrifice a virgin to satan, without using an actual virgin.” Eddie explained, not liking discussing anything remotely sexual, but, for the sake of explaining, he had to. He wasn’t finished speaking, but, Richie interrupted him. “So, really when you get down to it, this is your fault!” He laughed nervously, trying to defuse the tension of the situation. Neither Bill, nor Eddie, thought it was particularly funny. Eddie knew speaking in such a way as actually possibly dangerous, knowing Bill’s issues with internalizing things and blaming himself for things. He knew Richie didn’t mean any harm by it, but, that wasn’t the case for Bill. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. His mouth hung open agape, was he really the cause of this? His eyes stung now, he didn’t know wether he was going to cry, but, he certainly wanted to. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was getting very overwhelming, he felt like he had no control over this situation. He forced himself to deny that what they were implying could be true, there was no way Stanley, the most pure, perfect person he had ever known, could be evil. Eddie saw Bill’s face change, and that he looked much more hurt than before, and shot Richie a dirty look. “Leave the talking to me, trashmouth” He told him nonverbally. “Beep beep, Richie. He’s kidding, Bill. It all makes sense now, ‘if a human sacrifice is impure, the result may still be attained, but the demon will forever reside in the soul of the demon, they must eat on flesh to sustain the demon.” Eddie read the words on the worn and weathered page to Bill, and as he followed along, he refused to believe them. He repressed all his doubts to the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe they were wasting his time with this. “Um, okay?” He replied, doubt obvious in his voice, a condescending doubt, if they were being honest. Bill knew Stanley better than anyone, or at least, he thought he did. He’d be damned if he let someone sit in front of him and try to tell him something he thought to be untrue about him. And to read him the words of their accusations aloud to him as if he didn’t know how to read; in his opinion, they were being condescending towards him first. Eddie quickly grew exasperated by Bill’s demeanour, and instead of dancing around it, said it outright. It was if Bill wasn’t listening at all anymore, so, he gave him something to make him listen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s eating boys!!! They like make him... really pretty. And glowy, and his hair looks amazing. And, then, when he’s hungry, he’s weak and cranky and ugly. Well... ugly for him.” Eddie exclaimed, trying to get this to sink into Bill. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were much wider this time. It was as if his eyes were the same size as the lakes that shared their colour. Bill had so many questions come to his mind, hitting him like a punch to the stomach all at once. He wasn’t sure why this was the first question he asked, but, it was. “Who else knows?” He asked, it was all he could think to say. His eyes looked at the book as he continued to read, and then back to Eddie as he waited nervously for his answer, he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Eddie wasn’t sure why that was the first thing he asked, but, he answered it anyways. “The rest of the losers.” He said simply, preparing himself for the ensuing follow up questions. Bill didn’t like that answer, he felt so lied to. Anger brewed inside him, and he was sure his face mirrored how he felt. He locked eyes with Eddie, and stared directly into his brown, sympathetic eyes with his much harsher blue ones. “Great? So I’m the luh-last one to know? F-Fucking f-f-fantastic. Thanks g-guys!” He scoffed sarcastically. If he was smart, he would have acted on his first instinct to get up right then and there and. But, he didn’t. He stayed seated, though he really wanted to leave. He didn’t know what was keeping him there. Maybe the subconscious knowledge that they were right and probably onto something? Bill supposed that could be the case, but, couldn’t put his finger on it exactly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nonetheless, he stayed where he was. Eddie felt bad admitting this but, he wanted to be candid with him. “No. Stanley doesn’t know that we know yet.” and he knew instantly how bad that sounded as it left his lips. And Bill laughed in disbelief. “Wait, so for all you know, this is bullshit? You haven’t told him or asked him about it? You guys are just sneaking around, telling people this? That’s fucked up.” and Richie took slight offence to his reaction. He looked at him sternly, and said what he knew Eddie wouldn’t have the courage to say. He gripped his hand under the table, trying to show him that they were in this together, even if Richie wasn’t doing much of the talking. Eddie looked up at him for a moment, and smiled sheepishly, and gripped his hand tighter, needing that reassurance. “Listen, we know what we’re talking about. So just be quiet, and hear us out.” And Bill nodded, and stared at him just as sternly. He respected what he said, and gave them the benefit of the doubt to keep talking, and kept listening. Bill still wasn’t following, and, asked, “Wait?? When did th-this h-happen?” Just in case there was some truth to what they were saying, not that he’d admit that to himself; and certainly not to them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remember when you couldn’t come to my house?” Richie asked him, rather than answering his question outright. Bill didn’t know what he was trying to imply, but he still felt unsettled by his response, and his lack of a concrete answer. “That was like a m-month ago? So wh-what? What does th-that have anything to do with anything? Wh-when even w-was th-th-that?” He was stuttering terribly, he needed to calm down, he needed to stop and catch his breath. But, he couldn’t allow himself that, he needed answers even more than he needed to calm down. He wanted an explanation as quick as Eddie and Richie would give him one. “The 14th. The night of the first attack,” Eddie answered grimly, his tone wavering now as well. Bill didn’t like how Richie and Eddie we’re finishing each other’s sentences and were taking turns answering his questions. This was definitely coordinated and he didn’t like that at all. Bill got goosebumps as he processed what he said. It was vague, but, Bill could read between the lines. He remembered that night very vividly; that was the night Stanley came into his room unannounced and unplanned, and acted very strangely. This was all starting to align, and he didn’t like that either. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I- I don’t even- Explain. Now. P-Please.” Bill asked, though, it was more begging than anything, he was scared now. He needed them to say something completely nonsensical and impossible, to complete dispel all reasons to take them seriously. He needed their story to fall apart; he needed it desperately. Richie chose to answer this question. He didn’t know where to start, or wether he should give him the short or long version. “Well, um. In short, Eddie-“ And cut himself off to laugh at his choice of words. He read the room, and saw both Bill and Eddie looking very displeased he was joking at a time like this, and continued, “That was unintentional. Sorry, I’ll say it for you guys: ‘Beep Beep.’ So, um. Yah. Anyways. We were playing truth or dare, and I was asking Stan like, ‘have you gotten laid’ and he didn’t answer, but I dropped that line of questioning Mike was getting uncomfortable because he- no. Nevermind, I won’t drop two bombs on you in one day. And then Eddie was really scared about this movie, so I dared Eddie to be sacrificed, just to mess with him. Stan was trying to tell him to not be afraid, so he told us to let him take Eddie’s place to ease some of his fears. Because he doesn’t believe in demons and shit, or at least didn’t at the time. Which doesn’t make sense to me because he still believes in God so, like, what the fuck? But I didn’t wanna be rude and question that- anyways! And, the movie was about sacrifices to satan, so, to get him to not be afraid, Stan said to sacrifice him. Because he believed nothing would happen, and that that would debunk his fears. So, I did the same sacrifice that was in the movie Eddie was scared of as a dare. And, obviously it didn’t because the devil is real apparently and he is currently possessing our own Stanley Uris.” He rambled on his explanation, and ended it with smiling apologetically, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at either of them; specifically, mad at him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill struggled to follow along, but, was keeping up, and hanging onto his every word. His eyes widened at the realization: Stanley was in fact possessed. But, came to the conclusion: It was entirely Richie’s fault. And, if there was any silver lining, at least pennywise wasn’t back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And suddenly, Bill believed them. He didn’t know wether to be happy it wasn’t Pennywise behind all of the attacks; which was their first thought. Or, scared for Stan because it was him. He didn’t know what to feel. Relief still washed over him, as false as that might be. Stan, he could save, pennywise, he knew he could never face again. He stayed silent. His heart broke for Stanley, he couldn’t believe he didn’t notice anything sooner. He was kicking himself for not being there for him. He was his whole world; his mind quickly raced with thoughts of how to help him. He buried his face in his hands, he didn’t want to face anyone right now; much less those two. Eddie took this as a sign that finally, he believed what they were saying. He didn’t want to tell him this next part, but, he would feel remiss if he didn’t. With a quivering voice, he spoke to him meekly, “He can’t go to the dance. Don’t you get it? It’ll be like an all you can eat buffet.” Eddie told him, it had to be done. They needed to distance themselves from each other, and this was included. Stanley was dangerous, and Bill needed to get used to that fact. Who’s to say how many boys Stanley could kill if he went; Richie and Eddie didn’t want to take that chance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill looked up from them from the safety of his palms, and tried to hide the fact he had started to cry. “B-But... about the d-dance?” He had to admit, it felt better knowing Pennywise wasn’t back, he felt less of a sense of impending doom, he was still scared, but, it wasn’t as terribly as before. His stutter had even gone, the weight of the world had left his shoulders, and been replaced with a heavier; but lighter by comparison, weight. Richie grew frustrated, he knew Bill was going to be stubborn, but, he had no idea he was going to be so impossible. “Who cares about the god damn dance?” Richie spat, not knowing why this was such a big deal. Bill felt patronized, and he straightened in his seat. He tried his best to sound tough and threatening, but it was hard when he was about 1 second away from crying, and his voice gave his true emotions away. “I do!! M-Me and St-St-Stan were supposed to go t-together, this was the first dance he’s ever felt comfortable enough to go to. Before you assholes ruined his life. This is all your god damn fault.” He crossed his arms, and stated his convictions as if they were fact. Eddie didn’t take his words too personally, he was trying to put himself in his shoes- and he probably would be just as stubborn if the roles were reversed. Richie however, did take it personally. He shot up from his seat to say something, but he was pulled back down by Eddie, running a hand down his back to south him; which worked... for now. Eddie looked at him with a kind, sympathetic gaze; trying to calm him down and offer him all the empathy he could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can’t go.” He told him, and Bill didn’t like that he was speaking to him as if he didn’t have a choice. “What? You can’t tell me what to do.” He spat back, trying to reclaim some of his power, and spoke to Eddie like he didn’t have a choice. He leaned back in his chair, and kicked his feet on the table, trying to create a power imbalance of his own, and trying a bit to get under both of their skins. Richie wanted nothing more in that moment than to knock his black, worn and creased docs off the table, he was getting more annoyed by the second. He wished he could see that this was so much more than his relationship with Stanley. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This pained Richie nearly as much as it pained Bill, he loved him too. In a platonic way, but still. He loved him. He even still wore their little matching best friend necklaces they made for each other when they were young kids. They found two pieces of sea glass they’d found when Richie’s parents took them to South Portland the summer between junior kindergarten and senior kindergarten; they’d attached chains to them and they kept theirs with them always. Richie got the clear one that said ‘BE’ Stan got the blue piece that said ‘ST’; they only knew how to spell BEST at the time, and couldn’t write FRIENDS yet. And even though the sharpie they’d used to write with had faded, the sentiment had stayed the same. Stanley was Richie’s first ever best friend, and vice versa; Stanley still wore his every day as well. Richie was devastated too, but, at least he didn’t act like such an ass. Richie didn’t like how he was speaking to his boyfriend, and the protective instinct he had for Eddie came back up again. He was getting mad now too, “You think just because your stutter goes away and now people can actually understand you, that you can call all the shots? No, and get your fucking boots off the table.” Richie retorted, but Bill’s aura was unchanging, and neither was how he was sitting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stayed still, and stared at him intensely through squinted eyes, daring him to say something else. Eddie would be damned if he sat here caught in the middle of their staring context, and he looked at Bill apologetically, trying to apologize on Richie’s behalf, and diffuse questions. “We’ll be at the dance, but only to keep an eye on Stanley. Promise me, you can’t go.” Eddie was worried for him now, and Bill knew he thought he was doing the right thing, but Bill knew he wasn’t. This wasn’t right, he wasn’t going to turn his back on him when he needed him most. He needed normality more than anything; and he’d risk the towns peace any day for that. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” He knew they were implying more than they were letting on, and he was sick of it. No more dancing around anything, he wanted to know the complete truth. He braced himself for whatever they were about to say, as Eddie took a deep breath. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to break up with Stan, it isn’t safe for you two to be together right now,” Eddie told him, preparing himself for the worst possible reaction Bill could have, which, in his opinion, would be a bit justified. He couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. If it had been Stanley and Bill to get Richie possessed, and they told him that he needed to break up with him; even if they had their reasons as they did, he’d probably be pretty mad too. His reactions might even mirror his, who was he to say. Bill was so taken aback he can’t even speak for a moment. His mouth stay open, but he couldn’t bring himself to form words. “Relationships are through sickness and in health, I have to help him.” He said, his tone wasn’t commanding anymore, and he couldn’t bring himself to make an effort to get under their skin anymore. He wished none of this was happening, you could see it in his face: he was deeply, and truly sad. “That’s marriage. You guys aren’t married.” Richie stated, but was making an effort to try and speak more kindly, be felt a bit bad for his outburst earlier. Even though he meant it, he wished he could take it back. He knew that didn’t help anything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what?” Bill asked, his voice shaking, and it was clear to anyone that could hear him, he was so scared and unsure. Eddie wanted to reassure him, and offered him a bit of comfort. “We aren’t asking you to never speak or see him again. And... you can still be friends, even though that isn’t very ideal. But, it’s only a matter of time before he can’t separate his need to.... you know... and to kill.” Eddie didn’t want to say it outright, but both he and Richie knew Bill was in great danger, and the danger increased every day he was with him. For now, Stanley could have some control, and compose. He could control who he killed, and who he spared; but, he would lose that control soon. He would become more and more bloodthirsty and unhinged the longer he was like this; they knew Stanley wanted his blood and his soul terribly; but was stopping himself. It was only a matter of time before he couldn’t stop himself. Bill couldn’t believe what they were implying, and wasn’t sad anymore. He was flat out angry, his mood changing from one extreme to the other, instantly as soon as those words left Eddie’s lips. “God, you guys are un-fucking-believable. First, you ruin his god damn life by GETTING HIM POSSESSED. And then, you have the nerve to tell me I have to break up with him. What if I told you guys you couldn’t be together because of a mistake me and Stan made. Think about that.” They noticed that his stutter had went away, which, made them happy, a bit. They could tell Bill wasn’t finished speaking, so gave him some more time to get everything he needed to say out, before they replied. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie’s blood was boiling, he couldn’t believe Bill was being such an asshole about this. “You have the nerve to not tell Stanley that you know, and to tell me last, and then ask me to break up with him? Do you even hear yourselves? Fuck you guys.” Richie was fed up, and spoke right after Bill was done, nearly cutting him off and not even caring if he did or not. Eddie looked up at him, unsure of what he was going to say. Eddie wasn’t necessarily mad at Bill in the same way Richie was starting to be. But, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to take some of his words to heart, and was starting to have his feelings hurt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie was starting to get fed up, he didn’t know why Bill was taking this so seriously. Sure, he knew Bill loved Stanley, but, he thought he needed to get his head out of his ass- they were only 17, this was just a high school relationship. “I don’t fucking get it dude. Why the hell are you buggin’ about this? News flash, Bill, your heart wont actually shatter into pieces if you and Stanley break up. What the hell is with your attachment to him?” Richie voiced his thoughts, and he watched as Bill’s face contorted in anger, his eyebrows furrowing even more than they already were. He was at a loss for words, he didn’t even know what to say. How could he say something like that to him? “Shut up.” He snapped simply, in no mood to say anything more. He stopped himself at that, he didn’t want to say something he’d regret. He thought he was being really hypocritical, because he knew he didn’t feel the same about Eddie. He thought he was being really unfair, and refusing to see his side of things, just so he could still feel that he was in the right. His lack of response made Richie even more angry, and he wanted to pick at the wound they clearly had just created, and wanted a response, even if Bill had to bleed for it. He wanted more acknowledgement than what he was giving him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s like... you aren’t actually Romeo and Juliet, you aren’t some star crossed lovers fated to be together- or whatever the fuck is in all that stupid poetry you write. He’s just the first guy to touch your dick, you’ll find another one just like him. And! Maybe, just maybe, that guy won’t be a demon who wants to kill you. Just a thought!” His anger came from a place of love. He cared way too much about Bill to see him do something stupid, he didn’t want to lose his best friend. Especially, because he felt very responsible for creating the problem that would inevitably lead to his demise. He knew Bill was very prone to reckless behaviour, and he didn’t want Stanley to be something he risked his life over. His harsh words were his way of protecting Bill from harm, and trying to talk some sense into him. This was Richie’s bed, and he was going to lie in it- he didn’t want Bill getting involved in this and trying to help Stanley. This was all Richie’s fault, in both of their opinions. He didn’t know how to get all of this across without a bit of callousness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sh-Shut up” Bill replied, for the second time. He was still in no place to come up with a comeback, or a successful and witty retort. He masked his true feelings to the best of his ability, he didn’t want to show that Richie’s words were getting to him, and he was nearing tears again. But, they weren’t getting to him in the way Richie was hoping; they were just making him madder at him. It was backfiring horribly; he should’ve known, trying to get a person with BPD to think more logically and see this situation for what it is, isn’t accomplished through negative reinforcement. “There is going to come a time when he can’t control himself any more...” Eddie necessitated to Bill, it was so important he grasped that. He spoke in a kinder voice than Richie was, but that didn’t matter to Bill. He was still taking Richie’s side, which, in his view, made him just as bad. Richie piggybacked off of what Eddie had just said, and continued off of his point. “... and you won’t mean anything to him when it does. And this whole ‘Oh he’s my favourite person’ ‘Oh, Stanley, he’s so perfect’...” He mimicked, trying to do his best singsongy Bill impression, and continued, “It’s Bullshit, it’s all bullshit. You may not care about you, but I do. And I’ll be damned if I let you get hurt. I don’t want that blood on my hands.” and he trailed off, adding quietly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” and Bill wasn’t at all touched by that sentiment, and quite frankly, Bill found his justification stupid. If he cared about him, he wouldn’t be speaking so harshly to him, and he wouldn’t have done this in the first place. He actually laughed, out of the sheer ridiculousness of what he just said- he couldn’t believe he was serious. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you that dense? You only want to help me so you don’t have blood on your hands, wow, so brave, so kind. Take your hero complex elsewhere, I don’t fucking need it.” It was Richie’s turn to laugh now, in disbelief of what he had just said. “I have a hero complex? Hello pot, meet kettle.” Was all Richie could think. “Oh? I have a hero complex? One of us has one here, and it sure as hell ain’t Eddie, and it sure as hell ain’t me. ‘I have to save Stanley!’, grow the hell up.” Richie tried to defend himself, and was really hurt that that’s all Bill could get out of what he said. He completely dismissed the part about him saying he cared for him. If he said something to the affect of, ‘Poor me!’ he was going to slap him, he was sure of it. Suddenly, he got flashbacks to when they were 12, fighting in the street over what to do about Pennywise. There they were now, 17 years old and not much had changed, except, now they were fighting about what to do about Stanley. Who would’ve thought? “You act as if you don’t have blood on your hands already, this is all your fault. I hope you realize this. If you hadn’t have done this to him, none of this would’ve ever happened. If you wouldn’t have done all that shit, this wouldn’t be happening. There’s blood on someone’s hands, and it sure as hell ain’t Stanley’s.” He replied, mimicking what Richie said with his last line. And something about that set Eddie off. He didn’t want Richie to feel responsible for any of this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Truthfully, and objectively: it was no ones fault. A series of dumb decisions and unfortunate events led to something horrible; something no one could predict. “Take that back!! He’s just trying to help you. I’m just trying to help you.” Eddie shuddered, making his shaky voice heard over their bickering for the first time in awhile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it that you fuckers don’t understand? I lost my brother to a fucking demon, and I’m not going to lose my boyfriend too.” Tears welled up in his eyes. But, no matter if they were fighting, they were still his closest friends so he wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of them. What Bill had said stuck with Eddie and Richie. They felt bad for him, they truly did; and that statement made it a bit easier to see where his anger was coming from. It rationalized his outbursts a bit. Richie’s angry expression softened to match that of Eddie’s. His tone became softer too, he tried to reassure him. “We can do this, don’t worry about it.” Richie promised him, which eased Bill’s worry a bit, and his shoulders didn’t feel quite as heavy. Bill misinterpreted him, however. When Richie said ‘we’, Bill thought me meant that he was included in that. When Richie said ‘we’, he only meant himself and Eddie. “We’ll come up with a plan?” Bill questioned, a bit more hopeful now. Eddie decided he was best to answer that question. “Well, that’s the tricky part...” Eddie said, not sure how to say what needed to be said. All feelings of hope were crushed by Eddie’s unwillingness to be straightforward. “What’s tricky about it?” He wondered, his voice faltering with worry, Eddie’s heart broke for him. He didn’t want to be the one to tell him, but he supposed he had to. And, it would probably be better coming from him rather than Richie. He cleared his throat, but that was only to try and stall. “The books say that the only thing that can kill a succubus is a stab to the heart, or breaking a heart. Either or, but, it’s easy to understand that the only thing that can save him... is death. Unless they mean a heart injury in a metaphorical sense, but, we can’t be sure.” Eddie explained, nearly crying himself. He didn’t want to get into the complexities right now, that technically Stanley was already dead, and it was just his soul they were freeing, but he knew Bill couldn’t handle that right now. Eddie couldn’t even handle it, let alone having to explain it to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. NO, I refuse to believe that. Exorcisms work, theres got to be something. That can’t happen.” Tears fell from his eyes, he was so overwhelmed, he needed the world to just stop spinning for a minute so he could recuperate and come to terms with everything. “Not in this case, not in the case of a succubus. It’s the only way. That’s all that we can do,” Richie agreed with Eddie’s statement, and looked at him apologetically, he felt truly sorry for him. He wouldn’t know how he’d react if he was in Bill’s shoes, and it was Eddie who had to be killed; his heart broke for him, and broke preemptively at the impending death of Stanley, even though technically he was already dead. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill’s whole life flashed before his eyes as if he had been the one killed. It was as if a highlight of all of the memories he and Stan had ever made together replayed as so as Richie and Eddie were done speaking. He couldn’t believe what they were saying. Stanley was his whole life, he was his favourite person. He didn’t even know what to say, he needed to go home and think, he needed to be alone right now more than ever. One thing was certain, Stanley was not going to die. Bill could save him, or at least, he’d try his hardest to. “You guys are so fucked up. You do something horrible to him, and now you’re going to kill him? Because you can’t handle the consequences of your actions. That’s horrible.” Bill agonized, he wasn’t sure if he was mad, or sad, or a mix of both. His world was crashing and burning around him; and he just wanted to jump in the flames so he didn’t have to watch everything burn. Richie was furious that he dare said that; he needed to get off of his high horse, he thought. “Don’t you dare tell me, or Eddie what’s fucked up. Especially when your boyfriend, who you seem to be sticking by, is literally fucking killing and eating people, and sucking their souls and shit. He’s just as bad as pennywise was, if not worse. You’re fucking dumb, you know that right?” And that’s when Bill lost it, and he didn’t know what came over him. It was a culmination of every emotion he was feeling at that very moment; anger, betrayal, confusion, offence, and overwhelming sadness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He slapped him in the face, and immediately he regretted it. He cringed as he heard the sound his palm made against the skin of Richie’s cheek. He regretted it, but he didn’t apologize. His first instinct was to punch him, and he fought that feeling. “Don’t you dare say that. He’s only doing all of that because of something you did to him. You’re an asshole.” Richie rubbed his now red cheek, wincing in pain because his skin stung, and because Bill’s words hurt as well. “You have a fucking problem.” Richie murmured. And Bill agreed, they were being a problem. “Yah, I do. You both, you both are my fucking problem.” Bill was quiet now, he didn’t feel satisfied with what he said but he didn’t know what else to say, unsure of what to even say to make it better at this point. All three of them were silent, feeling like they all said too much anyways. He looked right at Richie as he got up to leave, and his gaze shifted to Eddie, he wasn’t as mad at him, considering in his opinion, this was all Richie’s fault. He was just mad at him by association, and to say that was maybe even a stretch. He was just disappointed, if anything. And he was really upset he kept him in the dark, and that he was the last to know out of everyone. “I expected better from you.” He told Eddie. He was genuinely upset he didn’t take his side. He’d known Eddie before he knew the others; he was to Eddie what Stanley was to Richie. He was hurt, and he felt betrayed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie could sense that, and he wished it didn’t have to be this way. Bill turned around and walked away, he didn’t storm off, he just walked calmly, and as fast as his feet would take him. And against both of their better judgements, Eddie and Richie didn’t chase after him. They told Bill what he needed to know, they just hoped he’d take what they said into consideration. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill walked down the hallway, trying to process everything he had just heard. He was scared for Stanley, sure, but he wasn’t mad at him, and he didn’t even really judge him too harshly for what he had done. He wasn’t scared of him though, which was an important distinction. He’d never be scared of him. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t his fault. He had just tried to help Eddie feel better, and come to terms with his fears. It was Richie’s fault. He was the one to do the sacrifice, he was the one who said the words to summon satan- so therefore it was his fault that Stanley was possessed by him. He felt bad for Stanley, if anything. He felt bad he had to do such things, he knew him better than anyone. He had such deep rooted feelings of religious guilt, and religious related obsessions and compulsions that he knew every day must be torture for him. He knew for Stanley, every day cursed with this existence was hell; no pun intended. He wasn’t sure as to what to do. There was one thing he knew for certain, he was going to stick by Stanley through everything, he owed him that much. He may be doing evil things, but the Stanley he knew was by no means evil. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was so good, and so pure, and so caring and so nice. To discount all of that, he felt was very unfair. He watched birds and wore cardigans, Bill knew he couldn’t be evil, he was too sweet to be evil. All of this was against his will, and not his fault. He wasn’t sure how to save him now, but he was determined to find a way. There had to be something, in some book, in some ancient text, that would help him. He’d even get Stanley to teach him Hebrew or Yiddish if that’s what it took to find the answer. He’d do anything for Stanley, and there were no limits to the word anything. He needed to leave, he needed to leave school as quickly as possible. Not permanently, but, just for the day. He couldn’t see Richie or Eddie for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t see Stanley either. He was sure he’d cry if he saw him now, and he didn’t want to accidentally blurt anything out. He wanted Stanley to tell him about his secret, before he let it slip that he knew, he felt he owed Stanley to be able to tell him on his own terms. He was jaded as he walked and thought, nothing quite sinking in, a bullet could’ve hit him in that moment and he wouldn’t have felt it. He was numb. He walked by Stanley’s locker though, and left him a note as he often did. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In his opinion, Stanley deserved normalcy, even if it was false. Bill wanted to give him that peace for as long as he could. He’d written it for him in first period, most of his thoughts when he was away from Stanley were about him- and Stanley was his default daydream material whenever class got dull and lost his interest. He slapped the post-it note onto the metal of his locker, and went over it with his palm to make sure it was stuck on there, and would stay on until lunch as over and Stanley could find it. His messy handwriting read; </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mon amour est là, tant qu'ta le veut.<br/>
Mon amour ce qui fut sera.<br/>
Le ciel est sur nous comme un drap<br/>
J'ai refermé sur toi mes bras<br/>
Et je t'aime tant que j'en tremble<br/>
Aussi longtemps que tu voudras<br/>
Nous dormirons ensemble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a blurb from his favourite french poem, Nous Dormions Ensemble by Louis Aragon. It made him think of Stanley, and, he knew that he liked it when he spoke french to him, or wrote him notes in french. Learning it to correct his stutter had some advantages, he’d come to learn. He smiled to himself at the thought of Stan finding it, comforting himself in the simple things. He knew Stanley liked to translate them in a french to english dictionary, search for the meanings of every word- it was fun, and it made him appreciate them more. Bill walked to his own locker, rather quickly as well. He wanted to get his backpack and jacket and get to his car before the lunch bell rang. He forgot his locker combination with all of the other things weighing on his mind, and it took him a few tries and a few guesses to finally unlock it. He got his stuff, and slammed his locker door shut. He rested his back against the door, and slid down the cool metal of his lockers, finally, he stopped for a moment. He let out a deep sigh, and allowed himself to cry. He got up after a while, and reluctantly walked away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he walked to the doors closest to his hallway, he ran into Bev. He didn’t question why she was there, he was just thankful she was. He ran up to her, and she looked up at him, and noticed his current state. He looked as if he had been crying, and he came up to her in a very disheveled way. “Hey, um, can you do me a huge favour?” he asked, his voice was faltering and raspy, as if he had been crying as well. Bev noticed his appearance, his manner of speaking, and that his stutter had gone. And, she remembered that Richie, Bill and Eddie had not joined their friend group for lunch that day. She put two and two together, this must’ve been the day that Eddie and Richie told him about Stanley. Whatever he needed, she’d do it, she couldn’t imagine the pain he was in right now. She didn’t know how we was keeping it all together. Bill was seconds away from crying again, he was just doing a very good job at hiding it. She nodded in agreement, and pull clarified his favour. “Could you call in for me; and say that you’re my mom picking me up from school... Or something? Any excuse would work. I need to leave... I feel sick,” he spoke with urgency, and that confirmed all of Bev’s suspicions. This had to have been the day that they told him, and she couldn’t blame him for being overwhelmed and needing to leave. “Of course. Yah, yah I’ll do that.” Bev told him, and he thanked her sincerely, and turned to leave. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bev called him just as soon as his hand grabbed the door handle and he was going to push it open. “Take care of yourself,” She reminded him, her voice was quiet with unwavering concern, and he felt guilty for worrying her. “I’ll be fine,” He called out to her, saying it because she needed to hear that, and because he needed the reassurance as well. He needed to hear himself say it, even though he didn’t believe it. Bev didn’t believe it either. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he got unto his car, he felt as though his heart could start a riot. He sat in the parking lot for awhile, taking the world in, and letting worry after worry crash against his mind like waves. It hit him slowly, and then all at once. He felt so scared, and as though he had no control over everything and anything. He opened the glovebox compartment of his car above his head, and rummaged through it. He found what he was looking for, one of his spare lighters. He flicked it open with his thumb, and held it there like that for awhile. His eyes were mesmerized by the small flame, and the way it would move and momentarily burn out every time his breath grazed it. He rolled up his left sleeve, and held the lighter close to his exposed skin, before he burned himself suddenly. He winced in pain, but he liked it, if this was the only thing he had control over, so be it. He hadn’t done this in so long, but he needed to cling to old habits to get himself through this. He had absolutely no idea what to do, and had absolutely had no idea how to solve all of the problems he had in his life that he wasn’t even aware of until less than an hour ago. If Stanley was fated to be the death of him, that’s exactly how he’d want to go. But maybe that wasn’t the case because, what the hell did Richie know?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In short, Bill learned that Stanley was deadly, and didn’t care at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill lay on his bed after a long, hard day, staring at the ceiling, a new thought popping into his mind- seemingly every second that went by. And with every passing second, a new worry occurred to him. He’d brush over his fresh burns with his thumb, just to feel anything at all besides confusion. He was too busy thinking to feel. There was so much to think about, so much to process. He felt like he’d failed Stanley, pure and simple- what would’ve happened if he’d been there? Oh, if only he could’ve been there... but, he tried hard not to dwell on what could’ve happened, or what should’ve happened. Because, the events that transpired, did in fact transpire, and now he was left to clean up the mess alone. Yes, alone, because he knew damn well he wasn’t going to let Richie and Eddie anywhere near Stanley ever again. He didn’t want to let anyone near Stanley ever again, was he the only one who had his best interests at heart? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this point, Bill seriously questioned if everyone was a let down- it just depended on how far down they could go. He couldn’t stop thinking, he’d been so lost in thought that he’d completely lost track of time. It felt as though it was still mid afternoon, when he’d gotten home from school and first sat down. Things looked the same, his book bag was slumped on the floor next to his bed frame where he’d thrown it upon coming inside. He hadn’t moved from his seat, he hadn’t even changed clothes. He hadn’t eaten or drank since he got home, he hadn’t consumed anything- except smoked a joint a few hours ago to try and calm himself down. But, that just seemed to make him more paranoid, nothing worked! If he drew the blinds shut, maybe he could pretend it was still mid afternoon, and he could act like he hadn’t wasted a day. Although he wasn’t aware of that waste of a day to start with; that would imply he was present, because he most certainly was not. While physically, yes, he was in his home, in a little suburb neighbourhood of Derry, Maine. Mentally, he was elsewhere- in the cataclysmic labyrinth of his thoughts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time stood still, in that moment, or at least, he could pretend it did. But, no, just because he wasn’t aware of it, time still did in fact pass- time was constant, even though Bill wished it wasn’t. He wished he could hit pause and just have some time to think of a plan, it didn’t even need to be a good plan! He was grasping at straws, and he didn’t have any idea what to do or where to even start. And, he didn’t have much time to think of a solution by the sounds of it, his entire life was a ticking timebomb and he’d just found out about it that day. He needed more time, it was funny; he thought he didn’t have enough time, and yet he seemed to lose track of it. Because, all of a sudden, it was midnight, the start of a new day, officially. But it still felt stagnant, the minutes blended together. When you receive life changing, catastrophic information, time works in mysterious ways. It goes by so fast, and yet seems to stand still all at the same time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All he could do was think, and think some more, and then dwell on the worst possible scenarios his brain came up with at rapid fire. He didn’t stand a chance against that artillery. He wanted more than anything to just go to sleep, forever if possible. And never wake up, because if he didn’t wake up, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. But he was too wide awake to sleep, far too wide awake with worry. The phone on his bedside table ran, pulling it out of his daze. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He should’ve known who it was on the other end of the phone, and, in any other circumstances, he would’ve known. He would’ve expected it in fact, he would’ve looked forward to this. In fact, the other person on the phone was a bit hurt that Bill hadn’t immediately known who it was, because it was Stanley. They’d always called each other to say good night, even long before they were dating... and yet it still took so long to admit their true feelings for each other. Hindsight really is 20/20. It was Bill’s favourite part of the day, except for actually seeing Stanley that day. But, having his voice be the last thing he heart before going to sleep was a close second. He’d say it would help give him good dreams. He never had much trouble with falling asleep, the Topamax he took always left him so drowsy it was a wonder he was ever awake at all, but he did have trouble with nightmares. Stanley’s calls were a way to combat that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello?” Bill spoke when he picked up, voice groggy and not quite there, not quite present. He answered like he wasn’t expecting a call, like he was completely out of it. Stanley’s heart dropped, it hurt that he’d forgotten, or at least, not put two and two together automatically. It wasn’t like Bill to forget tradition, and it especially was not like Bill to forget their little rituals. He remembered all their little firsts, and remembered all of their little anniversaries without fail; like their first kiss, first date, first time holding hands, etc. He even bothered to remember what time Stanley was born so he could wish him a happy birthday as accurately as possible- and yet... he couldn’t remember this? Stanley was worried for him, what exactly had Richie and Eddie said to him? He had a funny feeling he already knew. “Bill? It’s me- I just called to say goodnight,“ Stanley replied, a bit defeated. And Bill immediately felt like shit when the first syllable hit his ear. He sighed, and ran a hand through his fair, visibly stressed although Stanley obviously couldn’t see. “I’m so sorry, I- I just wasn’t expecting a call. I’ve been so out of it today, I honestly thought it was still 1oclock.” Bill explained, and he thought, ‘Yah, time sure does fly when you feel like shit.’ He forced a slight laugh to reassure Stanley but it didn’t work. Stanley grew more concerned, as he thought about what Bill had said, and quickly followed up his last statement with a question. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong- I... I heard from Beverly you went home early, and then I didn’t see you... what happened?” He asked, voice quivering. There was no judgement in his voice, or any hint of disdain, only fearful concern. And Bill didn’t know how to answer. A question was posed in his mind for the first time in his relationship with Stanley: ‘do I answer honestly, or do I lie?’. Did he tell Stanley that he knew? He didn’t want to, he really, really did not want to. He wanted Stanley to tell him himself, or for it to at least come up organically. As far as Bill was concerned, Stanley was robbed of the opportunity to tell him the truth himself, and that didn’t sit right with Bill at all. If Stanley didn’t get to be the first one to tell Bill he was possessed, Bill would at least try and let Stanley think the opposite. So, until then, he lied, and tried to make it as convincing as possible. “I just felt really sick, that’s all.” that was as convincing as Bill could make it. For someone as good at telling stories as he was, he was a terrible liar. Especially lying to Stanley, he’d never done it before! It felt so wrong, the words felt heavy in his throat. Stanley bombarded him with questions, because he was worried- but also because he wasn’t at all convinced. Stanley was at war with himself, did he want the truth or not? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh no, that’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that... are you going to be at school tomorrow? Do you want me to bring you something- what are your symptoms... I could maybe-“ Stanley paused for a moment, and continued, no longer able to hold in his burning question. “By the way, what did Eddie and Richie say to you- it must’ve been pretty important since they couldn’t wait to tell you...” he played with the phone cable as he wanted for his answer. Bill cursed himself, he shouldn’t have told him he was sick, someone like Stanley would not want to hear that, but, it touched him he cared so much, and was genuinely worried even if it was the shiftiest lie he’d ever been on the receiving end of. Bill had a weird relationship with worry; he felt terrible and guilty for making Stanley worry, but at the same time, he needed to know he worried. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He decided to answer the last question first, because, he had no idea what the hell kind of lie could be sufficient to evade it; and, because he hoped if he rambled on about something more easy to lie about, he’d forget about it. Or at least, forget about the shitty answer he gave. “It was nothing, they just... they just wanted to go over biology. We had had a quiz the period before and Richie and Eddie wanted my opinion on something, that’s all. And, No, and it’s just a headache, I’m fine. I promise you, princess. I-, yah, I think I’m gonna be at school. Not that I really want to go, but, fuck... when do I ever?” and Stanley forced a laugh to make Bill feel better, and he didn’t see through it, so, it didn’t. Stanley was relieved to hear that it was just a headache, but, he was still worried, and doubtful that Richie and Eddie hadn’t possibly played some sort of a part in how Bill was acting. Bill was acting different, his words were vapid and erratic, and, he wasn’t stuttering anymore. Which, Stanley was beyond happy to hear; but still, it begged the question, what did Richie and Eddie say to him? They must’ve said something, because there was a noticeable difference in how he acted previous conversation, and post conversation. At least Bill called him a petname, which made him feel sincerely better. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Have you taken your medication?” Stanley asked, hoping this wasn’t a reminder. And, unfortunately it was. Bill looked over at the bottle of pills on his dresser drawer, he took one that morning, and still had his second one of the day to take. He was going to take it, sure- but, it was all the way over there. He’d get to it, it wasn’t that he couldn’t be bothered, it was just... his body wasn’t able to move. He was slumped and sad, dazed and distant, it was as if his body wasn’t his own. “Yah, yah I have.” Bill lied, and he was grateful he’d reminded him, he might’ve forgotten otherwise. “Have you ate?” Stanley asked, he was worried he hadn’t, sometimes when he got like this, he’d forget to take care of himself- or, simply think he didn’t deserve to be taken care of. He was really worried, so worried, depending on his answer- he’d sneak out to bring him food himself. He’d even try and come up with a ‘no homo’ excuse as to why he cared about Bill so much; if he was caught and his parents asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yah... yah I have.” Bill lied again, feeling horrible doing so. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, and he’d only eaten that meal was because Stanley brought him a muffin. He liked that Stanley cared about him and took care of him, but thinking about that as he lied to him- made him feel gut wrenchingly guilty. “I’m sorry if I made you worry at all,” Bill continued genuinely, smiling apologetically out of habit, forgetting they were on the phone. During their conversations, sometimes Bill liked to close his eyes and just pretend they were together. He couldn’t wait until they were older, and they could put all of this behind them- and everything could be okay again. And maybe, they’d be lucky enough to know normalcy for longer than 5ish years. “Please, don’t apologize. Sometimes I just... overthink, and naturally most of that revolves around you because I love you so much,” Stanley’s voice sounded happier, more relaxed. They both were, the palpable tension has fizzled. “I love you too,” Bill said with a lightheartedness that roused the same butterflies in Stanley’s stomach that those words always did; it was also said with so much sincerity that it was obvious Bill meant it with every fibre of his being. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that gave Stanley hope, that even if he did know, Bill wasn’t disgusted or afraid of him- that this didn’t change anything. And if only Stanley knew, it didn’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley giggled, and that made Bill feel better, he could pretend everything was fine. “What’re you thinking about, honey?” Bill’s tone noticeably changed, and Stanley smiled imagining that his demeanour did as well. He hated seeing him when he was upset, his shoulders were always so tense, he expressed his emotions with gestures- and he looked so unhappy. His tone, now, was a lot happier and noticeably flirty, it made Stanley blush a bit, and Stanley was glad this was a phone conversation so he couldn’t see. He was a bit embarrassed to admit it because, it sounded silly, but he still said it regardless, “... it’s really nice to hear your voice. I really miss you when you’re not around...” he answered, a bit sheepish and giggly still. Bill let out a happy sigh, a lovesick kind of sigh- the kind of sigh you’d make and expect the skies to open up, or hearts to appear above your head like in old cartoons. Stanley was just so adorable, he couldn’t help but feel happy, even if it was fleeting, even if this moment was fleeting. And this moment was destined to be chased by another moment, and they were all going to combust in flames and get lost in the ash the inferno left behind. Even if Stanley was damned to hell and so was Bill for being complacent, or if they made it out fine and went to NYU next year as planned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things could be good, because Stanley was good. He may have been possessed, but he was a far cry from evil. Bill laid back into his pillows, getting comfier from his upright sitting position, and settling again. He was comfy laying down against his pillows, he was soft and happy- rather than before; wishing to disappear into his pillows rather than just being supported by them. “Fuck, you’re so cute...” Bill cooed, his voice somehow a bit raspier, and Stanley picked up on that, and had the same intentions, as subtle as they may be for now. “‘m not cute... I just like you a lot.” He pouted in return, they had that sort of back and forth, Bill would call him something cute, albeit a little infantilizing- and rather than admit to liking it straight away, Stanley would try to deny it, proving his point in the process. Bill thought that was adorable too, and didn’t know why he loved his pouty little whines so much. He ate them up, though, he ate up everything he did. “Christ, I wish you were here right now,” Bill said, meaning that sweetly and seductively, speaking even gruffer than before, almost whispering into the phone. Stanley tried so hard not to let a whimper out, he couldn’t help but notice heat pool to his groin at the sound of his voice- he loved it when he got like that. He bit his lip to keep his noises at bay, not wanting to sound so eager quite yet- however, that plan was foiled by his own words. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What would you do if I was... tell me...” He stammered desperately, curling the phone cord with his fingers, waiting for an answer. Stanley was even willing to say please if it meant Bill would indulge him- he wanted him to be as obscene as he knew Bill could be, as obscene as Bill usually was. He could feel Bill’s smirk radiate through the phone, “I don’t know... what would you want me to do?” Bill played his cards close to his chest, in the form of playing innocent, as if he didn’t know what he was talking about. That was what his words said, but, his tone gave away his true intentions, he murmured his words lowly, trying to get him as hot and bothered as possible. Stanley blushed though Bill couldn’t see it, he had a funny feeling that he was- he knew him all too well. Stanley didn’t know what to say, and more importantly, he knew what he didn’t want to say. It sounded so embarrassing when it was spoken allowed, especially over the phone! It was different when it was in person, he wasn’t as shy in person. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kiss me... and then, some other things...” Stanley replied, sheepishly, but he’d be lying if he wasnt turned on beyond belief. He sort of wanted Bill to make him say it, he wanted Bill to push him out of his comfort zone, that was where all the fun was had. He’d be more than willing to say it, he just needed some coaxing. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that...” Bill said in a slight combination of condescension and singsong, still as gruff and murmured as before, almost with a bit of a chuckle to his voice. “I know you can do better than that, you’re always so fucking filthy,” Bill continued, and that was the coaxing he needed. Stanley let out a slight moan, and swallowed harshly before speaking. “I.. I’d want you to kiss me, hard. The kind of kissing I like, where you bite on my lip and I lose my breath. And then you’d kiss my neck, and leave the bites I love so much. And then if I was good you’d let me suck your cock, and then you’d finish on my face...” Stanley trailed off, losing track of his own thoughts and tripping over his words. He was getting lost in the fantasy, getting lost in pretending, they both were. Stanley’s words hit Bill like a punch in the stomach in the best way, he was completely breathless. Bill groaned, “That’s my princess... you wanna suck my cock, huh?” he both praised, and asked. Stanley moaned in reply, and if that wasn’t obvious enough, he quickly confirmed, “Oh yes, I really do-“ Bill uninterrupted, groaning again at just how much Stanley wanted it, he wanted him to keep telling him how badly he wanted it. “What else would you want me to do..” and Stanley thought for a second as to how best to word this, his mind was getting a bit foggy and words were beginning to fail him. If this kept up, he’d have a hard time with sentence structure, and composing them in general. Not to mention, speaking is difficult when your cock is strained against your pyjama pants. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley mewled, “And then, you’d fuck me... hard. And there’d be something tying my wrists like I really like, and you’d be... s-stroking me while you do it. And, you’d be calling me pretty, and telling me what a good boy I was for you...” Stanley answered, nearly flooring Bill. He could listen to Stanley talk in such a way for ever, and he’d keep him on the line all night if both of their parents wouldn’t be angry at the phonebill cost. Bill let out a moan, not bothering to even try to bite his lip to contain it, “That’s exactly what I’d do if I was there...” Bill praised, which made Stanley feel proud himself, he was so happy to please him. He let out a soft moan, with a bit of struggle to it- like he had reached a breaking point, and just as Bill thought he could hear something in the background of the call audio. He commanded sharply, in the kind of way he knew Stanley loved to be spoken to, “Don’t touch yourself until I tell you to honey, I wanna hear you beg for it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley agreed obediently, and pulled his hand from slipping underneath the waistband of his pants as was the intention. Stanley couldn’t help but close his eyes tightly shut and wish this was happening right now, getting caught up in the fantasy of what he had just described. He’d run his hands through Bill’s hair and kiss him, and he’d taste as he always did, like strawberries and just a hint of cigarettes as if it were a garnish. And Bill would touch him like he always did, his hands would trail lower and lower, tightly grasping him as he brought their bodies together. He let out a soft mewl involuntarily at the mental image, if he concentrated enough, it was as if it was really happening. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill caught it, and smirked, and although Stanley couldn’t see it, he had a feeling he was smirking on the other end of the phone. “Mhmm...” Stanley whined, giving into what he wanted to hear. He was tending his thighs together to suppress his erection, he wanted to touch himself so bad and was waiting desperately for Bill to give him permission to do so. But, at the same time, he liked the lack of control. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me and do what I say, even if I can’t see you?” Bill asked, and Stanley whimpered, “Mhmm, p-promise,” which prompted a throaty moan from Bill, who couldn’t believe how Stanley sounded in that moment. Even if Stanley was evil, Bill couldn’t care less. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill had decided he’d let him touch himself, if, he humoured him one more time. Boldly, he asked, “Do you touch yourself often, baby?” with the cadence as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if he was asking him about the weather. Stan audibly gulped, and Bill laughed darkly. “Pardon me?” Stanley asked, surely, he had to have misheard him. Bill laughed again, “Darling, you heard me perfectly the first time, and I don’t want to repeat myself. Do you touch yourself often?” he asked again, trailing off again, “I fuck you often enough that you shouldn’t have to- but, you’re insatiable aren’t you...” and Stanley whimpered, so tempted to slip his hand down his pants but he didn’t. “Mhmm,” he sheepishly admitted, peaking Bill’s interest. “Oh? Do tell,” and Stanley continued, knowing this was exactly what he wanted all along, to back him into a corner to get him to admit to things like this. “Well, I- I want you all the time, and I can’t have you all the time... so...” He admitted, too shy to finish the rest, his face felt like it was on fire, and his cheeks probably burned red to match. It was true what he said, he did want him all the time, and being a succubus didn’t make it any easier, it made it 10x worse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You jerk off to the thought of me?” Bill finished for him, and Stanley moaned softly. “All the time,” he confirmed; still as sheepish as before. Bill growled, which only made Stanley’s member twitch in response. “So you do this all the time, you must love actually getting to hear my voice this time around huh? Does it make it feel more real for you?” Bill asked, cracking under his facade, this wasn’t as casual anymore, he was breaking and Stanley enjoyed it. “Yah, yah it really does...” and Bill groaned, and thought for a moment, though there was never silence on that call, gaps in conversion were filled by each other’s soft sounds. “I don’t know how to feel about this... because, that’s so fucking hot. On one hand, I want to get mad, because when I say, no one else can touch you like I can... I mean, no one else. You included, doll. So I do want to punish you for that... maybe hang up the phone and not entertain this at all...” Stanley’s heart sank, he hoped to god that that wasn’t the case... surely, he wouldn’t. But, Bill wasn’t finished speaking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And on the other hand, I wanna reward you. And, I also want to say- whenever you want a helping hand when I can’t be there in person, and you need someone talking you through it, fuck... please call me.” Stanley still didn’t answer, but Bill was far from done talking. “So I think I’m going to go with both responses.” and Stanley breathed a silent sigh of relief, but still, said nothing, and it was starting to kind of get on Bill’s nerves. Had he set the phone off to the side or something, was he even still on the line? ”Say something, doll.” Bill demanded, voice as smooth as honey as he did so. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Speaking was so hard- no pun intended; he was aching, he needed to be touched, he needed something. “Can’t... I, it’s... -ah!” Stanley tried to explain, and Bill bit his lip at the sound of his lover so debauched. “It’s difficult, huh? Beg for it...” He instructed, and Stanley didn’t need to be told twice. “Please, fuck... please, let me Bill!” Desperation practically dripped from his voice, “You know just how to ask... sure baby, go ahead.” and Bill finally gave him permission to do so, and Stanley nearly audibly thanked him- but not yet. He wasn’t that desperate.... yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I bet you’d love it if I touched you, go on... touch yourself,” Bill instructed again, but Stanley need to be told twice, he sighed gratefully as he did as he was told, Bill eager to listen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this, but, they hadn’t had phone sex like this in quite sometimes. And, Bill acted as he always did, controlled and collected. Words flowed easily and seamlessly, as if this was un, as if Stanley wasn’t jerking off on the other end. Bill was great at acting unaffected, he kept his cool so damn well, while Stanley was falling apart at the seams. He felt himself grow harder as he listened to Stanley’s soft sighs and groans; both hoping neither of their parents could possibly hear anything. Bill would be just as in trouble if his parents heard him instruct Stanley touching himself, as Stanley’s would be. There was something so thrilling about having to keep their voices down.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How does it feel?” Bill asked with such ease, as if this was a normal conversation, but still spoke with such steady authority. Stanley struggling to breathe, let alone answer. He wanted to tease himself, starting to stroke his hard shaft slowly, making himself whimper- beefing more. His tip already leaking with precum as he sped up, he shut his eyes and pretended it was Bill touching him. Building up the pace as he usually did. “Good...” Stanley choked, the way he spoke excited Bill, who grunted wantonly in response, Stanley’s words were chased by moans that escaped his parted lips. “Does it feel as good as when I touch you?“ Bill purred darkly, ready to have his ego stroked. Stanley replied quickly, “No... no it doesn’t,” which prompted a laugh from Bill, his tight lips pulled into an even more prominent smirk. “But you’re still pretending, huh?” Stanley was knee deep in pretending, fully indulging in the fantasy. In his imagination, Bill was on top of him, kissing and biting his neck, raking his teeth lower and lower until he sucked purple bruises on his collarbones. He’d rub his knee between his thighs before finally slipping his pyjama pants down, pulling them by the the waistband. He’d take his hard member and stroke him as he praised him. Or, maybe Bill was backing him against a wall, pinning his hands above his head as he jerked him off, calling him a slut because he wanted him so badly. Either one he’d be grateful for, either one was helping draw him to completion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes...” he said again, driving Bill crazy with desire, he wished he was touching him right now, he wished he was the one making him feel so good. Every sound Stanley let out, Bill was envious, he wished he could hear them in person. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I bet you look so pretty right now...” Bill mused as he listened to his cute little pants and curses, sporadic little ‘Oh, fuck!’s as he neared his end. Bill couldn’t help but imagine his mouth falling open, moans spilling out uncontrollably from the sounds of it, try to bite his lip to keep himself quiet, or even using his free hand over his mouth to subdue the sound. Bill’s had to do that for him a number of times so they wouldn’t get caught, because Stanley was always just so loud. “Ahh- Bill!” He moaned, and Bill’s pants were impossibly tight now, listening to him like this was just too much. “If you sound as pretty as you look, fuck- Cmon, doll, moan louder for me,” he cooed, and Stanley absolutely couldn’t say no to that. The praise and the petnames were too much. He knew he really shouldn’t, but he did, he let a loud grown escape his lips as he rocked himself into his own hand, writhing against his own sheets- so close to cumming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, Bill...” he mewled, “Say my name like that again, fuck you’re so hot...” Bill nearly begged, he couldn’t get enough of his name being said in such a way, it’s what filled his thoughts when he was alone most of the time. This was one hell of a distraction, he needed this so badly. “Fuck-, Bill... please...” He begged, not entirely sure what he was begging for, as Bill couldn’t touch him. But, Bill had an idea what Stanley had in mind. Bill moaned, replaying Stanley’s ‘Bill!’s and ‘Please!’s in his mind, but still, could somehow keep his cool. “Don’t fuck yourself until I tell you too.” He told him, speaking point blankly, like this was an instruction that needed to be followed. It excited Stanley greatly, that he could even assert his dominance over the phone. “I’m really close...” Stanley told him, and Bill was eager to hear him finish. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few more strokes and it was apparent, Stanley was true to his word, he was really close. “P-Please,” Stanley murmured softly, he needed this terribly. Bill groaned, Stanley sounded so good on the edge like this. “Finger fuck yourself, don’t put any more fingers in until I tell you to,” Bill gave in, finally giving Stanley what he wanted, and speaking so crassly in the process. “Ah- oh gosh, thank you!!” Bill moaned softly, ‘thank you’ sounded so good from him in such a context, Bill palmed himself through his pants. Stanley slicked his own fingers with saliva, which was one of his favourite parts of sex with Bill- it was so intimate. But, it didn’t feel intimate at this moment, it felt a bit odd if he was honest, but it was all he could do. Even so, he continued to keep his eyes shut and pretend that it was Bill prepping to fuck him. He teased himself, again, prodding ever so slightly at his own entrance, before finally pushing past the ring of muscle. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh shit, B-Bill,” He tried to keep quiet, but it was too much. Knowing Bill was listening as he fingerfucked himself to the thought of him was so hot. He rocked himself against his own finger, not close enough to satisfy. “You’re so cute baby, listen to you...” He praised, Stanley blushed profusely under the weight of his compliments, he only wished he could hear them in person. Stanley held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, arching his neck to keep it there, and used his free hand to continue to stroke himself off. He tried to keep the paces the same, but it was way too difficult. He was on the edge; a second away from a climax. Stanley heard Bill unzip his fly, starting to jerk off to the sound of him get off. Stanley bit his lip so hard to conceal a loud mewl that he was surprised it didn’t draw blood. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill slid his hand up and down the length of his member quickly, he was hard too; and approaching a climax rather quickly himself. He couldn’t necessarily close his eyed and pretend it was Stanley touching him, Stanley’s hand was much smaller than his. And much gentler too. “You make me so hard, princess. Holy shit do you turn me on...” He mused, a bit absently, losing himself in the moment. Never once losing his composer, his voice still had yet to falter in the slightest bit. Stanley couldn’t even think of anything to say, letting his moans speak for him. Bill was proud of the reaction he caused. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Slide another finger in, go on...” Bill egged on, finally giving Stanley what he needed. “Oh fuck, Bill-“ he whimpered, slipping another finger inside to join the first, rocking into his touch to work them in deeper. “Go on... say thank you...” Bill teased gruffly, and Stanley swallowed hard to steady himself, preparing to say something other than his name- which was growing more and more difficult as the seconds ticked by. “Ah- th-thank you!” He yelped, trying to fuck himself harder, like Bill does- he couldn’t do it like him though, he needed him here. “You probably don’t like it like this, huh? You wish I was there, right? This doesn’t cut it for you, the only way you like it is rough.” Bill breathed harshly, as if reading his mind. Bill had no idea how right he was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill continued with his rough dirty talk, taking Stanley’s moans as words of encouragement. “I bet you wish I was choking you, because you’re such a slut for it, you love being treated like that.” And again, he was so right. Stanley loved to be treated that way, in fact, he wished he was being treated like that right now. “I do- I am... oh, fuck!” He replied, just as absently as Bill had spoken before, a fog over his mind; his train of thought fizzled. The response was more than enough for Bill, his moans were delicious. “Think you could slide another finger in for me honey?” And Stanley did exactly as he was told, and was happy to do it too. Judging by the way Stanley was moaning, Bill knew he wouldn’t last long enough for a fourth. The pace of both his hand and his finger became erratic, losing control of both. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley’s vision flashed to white, overcome by his release, and trying his absolute best to not be too loud. The only name on his lips: ‘Bill’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of Stanley reaching euphoria and saying his name in the process was what sent Bill over the edge. “Fuck... oh God, Stan-“ He tried his best to keep quiet, and breathed heavily into the phone as he came, panting hard as he came into a tissue he’d grabbed from the box on his bedside table at just the right time. Trying to keep his voice down for two reasons: he didn’t want to get either of them in trouble. Once they both caught their breaths again and regained composure, they spoke again. Stanley was the first to break the gap in conversation, filled only by sighs and pants. “Wow,” He said, awestruck, looking at his ceiling- he didn’t even know where to begin. Bill laughed softly, his voice raspier and quieter now, he’d exhausted himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We should do that more often...” Bill agreed, meaning it too. They didn’t do that often enough- Bill would do that every day if Stanley wanted. “Yah... wow,” Stanley replied, repeating his statement of amazement. Bill said nothing, but let out another affectionate little laugh, Stanley’s awe was just so adorable. He stayed silent and admired it. Both had easy smiles on their faces, exhausted and very happy. “‘m really sleepy, I’m gonna go to sleep. I love you..” Stanley whispered, about to put the phone back on the hook, but was waiting for Bill to say it back. “I love you, good night. Sleep well, honey,” he cooed as he hung up, his eyes were falling heavy. He felt better as he placed the phone on the hook, and smiled thinking of Stanley getting cozy and getting well deserved rest. He turned over, not bothering to change into pyjamas. He was tired, and he needed to go to sleep. As he lay there with his eyes closed, waiting to fall asleep, he had come to the conclusion, if Stanley was really his, he was his to protect as well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me, rereading my writing: ‘is this??? My Immortal?????’ i hate it here lmfao, maybe one day i’ll be literate but who knows???</p>
<p>PREEMPTIVELY: i tried for space things out better WITHOUT being told first, i’m rly trying to improve &lt;3<br/>hopefully you guys are liking this, ive spent a rly long time on this so hopefully i could create something you can enjoy </p>
<p>lots of love from me to you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. ch. 6 𖤐 i’m not going to teach your boyfriend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>... how to dance with you.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tried a bit of something different, stylistically. just to be clear, everything in italics is a flashback/memory, and isn’t actually happening in real time. just in case i didn’t write it well enough for that to be obvious, which could be the case, considering i wrote this at like 2:30am. </p>
<p>also i lov super tall, lanky boys... so... sorry for projecting that onto richard, william &amp; michael.... OOPS!(?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">❝</span><span class="s2">𝐈</span><span class="s3">'</span><span class="s2">𝐦</span> <span class="s2">𝐧𝐨𝐭</span> <span class="s2">𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚</span> <span class="s2">𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡</span> <span class="s2">𝐡𝐢𝐦</span> <span class="s2">𝐡𝐨𝐰</span> <span class="s2">𝐭𝐨</span> <span class="s2">𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞</span> <span class="s2">𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡</span> <span class="s2">𝐲𝐨𝐮</span><span class="s3">. </span><span class="s2">𝐇𝐞</span> <span class="s2">𝐝𝐨𝐧</span><span class="s3">'</span><span class="s2">𝐭</span> <span class="s2">𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭</span> <span class="s2">𝐚</span> <span class="s2">𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠</span><span class="s3">. </span><span class="s2">𝐈</span> <span class="s2">𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡</span> <span class="s2">𝐡𝐞</span><span class="s3">'</span><span class="s2">𝐝</span> <span class="s2">𝐠𝐞𝐭</span> <span class="s2">𝐚</span><span class="s2">𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞</span><span class="s3">,❞</span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2">𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒</span> <span class="s2">𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄</span> <span class="s2">𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑</span> <span class="s2">𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇</span><span class="s3">: </span><span class="s2">𝟓𝟔</span></p>
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  <span class="s4">
    <em>“Hey, St-Stan,” He spoke, but the sentence felt unfinished, it was as if he had more to say. “Yah, Bill?” He asked, he couldn’t see him walking over to him, so his presence was a happy surprise. Stan zipped up his backpack, and took his coat off of the hook assigned to him. His jacket was a bit too big for him, his mom often bought his clothes a few sizes too big, so he could wear them for a few years and he could grow into them. He was already a small child, and the big coats he wore did him no favours. Bill liked the way he looked though, he wouldn’t change anything about him. He organized the contents of his backpack, zipped it up and pulled it from his cubby. He tossed it on his back, and waited for Bill to say whatever he wanted to, he could tell something was eating at him. He sensed he was a bit nervous, and Stan always really hated when Bill was nervous. Stanley felt what Bill felt, and vice versa, they were strangely close and Stan didn’t know why, but, he liked that about their friendship. </em>
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    <em>They walked through the doors of their classroom alone, Stan was always the last one to leave, and Bill waited for him today. He didn’t mind waiting for his new friend, and he watched what he did that always took him so long. He meticulously organized his things, and made sure it was clean before he put it in his bag. Neither of them knew why he did that, but Bill never questioned it, and Stan was happy he didn’t ask him about it. He didn’t know why such rituals brought him piece of mind, so he wouldn’t have an answer even if he did ask. “Do you w-wanna walk home w-with me? W-we c-c-can h-hang out after, if y-you w-want. We c-can watch St-St-Star W-W-Wars. And you c-can meet my br-brother, G-Georgie. He’s j-just learning h-how t-to w-walk,” He invited him, speaking really quickly. They walked down the hall together, and it felt really good to not walk out of school alone. There was something about Stan that he really liked. </em>
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  <span class="s4"><em>It was only the first day of their friendship but, he never wanted to be apart from him again. He really liked being in Stan’s company, and he wasn’t old enough to know why, and to understand the complexities of the feelings he had, so at that moment, he didn’t know why he liked his company so much, but he did. Stan was a bit odd, he was really neat, cared way too much about being organized (especially for his age), and had an odd, sarcastic sense of humour. But, Bill was a bit odder, so he liked being around Stan. He nervously waited for Stan to respond, he looked over to him, and he saw Stan smile. “Okay, Bill. I’d like that a lot,” and Bill smiled now, too. Stan had always been so mature, and always spoke as if he was much older than he was. He’d always been concerned with how he dressed, wether his hair was neatly combed, and was the type of kid to drink tea rather than chocolate milk. Bill had never</em> <em>met anyone like Stanley, and maybe that was why he liked him so much. Being with Stanley always felt like home, he was always so comforting. He was like sounds of the rain, both made him really happy, and were really comforting. He didn’t know why he felt that way, he just did. They both had that innately calm quality to them that Bill couldn’t explain. Realizing now, looking back: Bill had fallen in love with the first person who was nice to him, who didn’t have to be. “I’m lucky to have met you today, Bill,” Stanley said, he was compelled to say that, though he wasn’t sure why. And as always, he was speaking much more formally than any other child his age would, Bill could listen to him all day.</em> </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill had started to hang around his friend, Mike Hanlon a lot more lately. Partially because he and Richie, and and he and Eddie weren’t speaking. Mike wasn’t sure why they had recently fallen out, but he assumed that it wasn’t his business to inquire as to why. He was happy about it, though, he was always very eager to spend more time with Bill, and was always extremely thankful when times to do so presented themselves. He needed his comfort, now more than anyone’s. As his father’s health was getting worse and worse as the days went by, it was becoming extremely probable that he would lose him any day now. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Or, at least it felt that soon, that around the corner. He had hung around Eddie a lot more now, too. Because, he had lost a father at a young age, too. But, he enjoyed talking about it more with Bill. Not that he didn’t love his friend Eddie, he just didn’t have a crush on him, so it was different. Bill had gone through the same type of loss, more or less. He’d lost a loved one, too, his brother, Georgie. And, that was within recent memory, so the wounds were still semi-fresh; scabbed over but not quite a scar. His advice was helpful, and comforting. It felt incredible to bond with him on that kind of level, and it felt especially incredible that it was a level Bill and Stan couldn’t bond on. It was something that was uniquely theres, because he was sure Bill and Eddie didn’t talk to each other about their dead relatives for solidarity, or at least, they didn’t very often. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Sure, Stanley was his boyfriend but- Bill and him could share the pain of losing a loved one tragically; so there!- he thought. Not that he would ever break them up, but he could dream. He could have Bill in his dreams, and Bill was his in his dreams, and that was good enough for him. His presence was enchanting, he was different from anyone else he knew. He wrote, he drew, he had a car, he was the first one in their friend group to wear doc martens, he spoke french, he was tall; in other words, pretentious as all hell. But, it was an endearing pretentiousness that was just the exterior for a very kind and sweet person. He was someone you could fall in love with, and unfortunately, Mike had no choice to. When you only hung around 6 people, who also hung around those same 6 people, love triangles and unrequited crushes were bound to happen. It had happened plenty of times, like when Bill and Ben had a crush on Bev, or when Stan and Eddie both had a crush on Richie in 6th grade, or that one weird period of time in their group’s history when all of them (except Ben, the straight outlier of their friend group), all had a crush on Stan for a week in the summer between 8th and 9th grade. And, Mike had been knee deep in his crush on Bill since 9th grade, after he came back from summer break having grown 6 inches and a changed voice. </span>
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  <span class="s3">But, Mike liked to think it was more than a crush. A crush was something children had, and it implied it was both meaningless and fleeting. His crush on Bill was neither of those things. And, a crush implied that it was bubbly and carefree. Sure, it was that, some of the time, but other times, it was agonizing. And right now, it was both, Mike was both drowning in love and anxiety at the thought of Bill Denbrough, his childhood best friend, sitting 2 feet apart from him. They sat in the soft, grassy pasture of his family farm, it was around 2PM, and he had finished all of his chores for the day, and he thought of no better way to spend his free time than with Bill. He’d called Bill, and felt like fainting from happiness when he said he was free- Stanley had to help his father at the Synagogue prepare for tomorrow morning’s service. But, Mike didn’t mind, it didn’t matter he was a second choice of sorts- because, it wasn’t Stanley with him right now, it was him. He was happy to be a choice at all, as hopelessly in love as that sounded. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill had brought one of sketchbooks with him, and Mike watched in awe as he sketched. Bill wasn’t the best at math, or science- or talking, really, up until a few years ago. But, he was so good and so naturally talented at anything related to the arts, Mike could watch him sketch all day. He watched as his pencil danced across the blank page, expertly controlled by his steady hand. He was sketching some of the plants that stood before them, in Mike’s open farm land, that seemed to go on forever. It was such a beautiful day, the sun shined down on them brightly, and Mike felt warm all over. But, his cheeks felt the warmest, dusted with a light blush, a blush that seemed to creep over his cheeks and call them home whenever he was around Bill. Bill tapped his foot along to the music coming from Mike’s boombox, and Mike took that as a silent sign of approval. He was happy that Bill liked the music he liked, he valued his taste very much. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Mike inched closer to him, wanting to get a better look at his sketches, but not wanting to feel too enclosed. He himself wasn’t an artist, so he was a bit unsure of the etiquette when it came to watching someone draw, he was sure to tread lightly, though. He was happy Bill felt comfortable enough to draw in front of him, he knew Bill very well, so he knew that was an honour he entrusted onto few. He didn’t move a muscle as Mike scooted closer, and smiled at him so he knew it was okay to look. His eyes quickly returned back to his paper, and Mike missed the deep blue gaze nearly instantly. Bill continued to draw, drawing the intricate flowers and curves of the leaves and stems of the dandelions that caught his eyes, and Mike felt strangely jealous. He only wished that Bill would look at him that intently, and he mesmerized by his every detail, just like he was with the plants he drew. He laughed in his own tragic folly, he shouldn’t think such things. And he especially shouldn’t think such things about his best friend, who had a boyfriend, who also happened to be one of his best friends. That was the tragedy of having a small friend group, ladies, gentleman and nonbinary folk! </span>
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  <span class="s3">Mike dared to get closer, almost inching over his friend’s shoulder. “You’re really, really, good,” Mike spoke, his voice hushed, but still oozing with awe. Bill smiled, “You think so? Wow, thank you, Mike!” He beamed, and Mike felt good that he could make Bill feel good. He no doubt knew that he was good, but he never acted like it, his humbleness was something Mike liked most about him. Mike also noticed, because he overanalyzed everything Bill did, his stutter had left him. He was beyond happy, because his stutter was a sign of his regression, and his terror- but, was also curious. He wondered what had happened to ease his mind, and his worries. Because, he for one, had not been eased as of lately about the tragedy unfolding in his town, especially now that he knew the cause of it, and his friends did as well. Of course, knowing it was Stan had eased him a little, but not completely. The same could be said for the rest of their group; Stanley being something so evil was the elephant in the room of their friend group. But, more tragically, of course. They felt sorry for him, but were still terrified to no end. They were terrified, to say the least, they still felt scared. Not to the complete state of calm that radiated from Bill.</span>
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  <span class="s3"> But, Mike didn’t want to bring up the sudden change in tone, especially since their topics of conversion for the rest of their time together that day had been rather dark. The dust had settled, and it was more lighthearted now. Their conversion wasn’t unpleasant before, just harder. Death is hard, and dealing with it is even more so. As much as they could kid themselves, and act like they as a friend group and as individuals were immune to the harshness of death; and could play pretend that they were numb it it, that wasn’t true. It was hard, and their tones had just gotten happier, lighter; Mike didn’t want to ruin that. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Especially by talking about his best friend, and Bill’s boyfriend, being a succubus. That was something he wouldn’t talk about. And until it was no longer the elephant of every room, he wouldn’t talk about it. Instead, he’d talk about one of his favourite topics of conversion, Bill’s art. Bill could sense him trying to get a better look, so he showed it to him, and brought it away from his torso so he could see it better. “You really are so talented,” And Mike wasn’t just saying that, he made a plain old dandelion look like a Monet; but, that could’ve just been the rose coloured glasses he saw everything about Bill through. Bill smiled, and thanked him very dearly for the compliment. He really liked Mike, but, he was the last one to know about the crush Mike had on him. He couldn’t even imagine a world where two people could ever have romantic feelings for it, so no matter how many times Stanley, or anyone else, tried to tell him about Mike’s feelings for him, he literally did not believe them- and did not see it as a possibility. Plus, he really, really liked the compliments he gave him, and how nice he was to him, so he wanted to see it as just a genuine, friendly niceness to him. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Mike’s heartbeat raced, forcing himself to ask the question he’d been meaning to for sometime, every time he’d seen him draw. “Can I see more, if you don’t mind??” He wondered, nervously. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries, he didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Bill smiled at him now, but differently than before, it was more reassuring, not just a generic happiness. “Yah, sure, if you want to. Of course I don’t mind, Mike,” He trailed off, before saying what he wanted to, finding the courage to reassure him, he finished his sentence. “I really do trust you, Mike,” And Bill meant that in a very platonic, best friend sort of way- he really, really didn’t mean to lead Mike on. He didn’t believe he ever had the power to lead anyone on, in the first place. Mike nearly lost his breath at that, and tried not to choke on air as he breathed deeply, trying to settle himself and process what he had just said. He felt so honoured, and so light, like he was floating. His trust meant everything to him, especially because he knew it was so hard to earn. He took his sketchbook gingerly, with shaky hands. He hoped Bill didn’t notice how shaky his hands were, and hoped he couldn’t hear how fast and how heavy his heart was beating. He felt it could burst through his chest, or rattle around his rib cage- that’s how powerful it was at that moment. </span>
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  <span class="s3">He excitedly took it, and skimmed the pages, the first two pages were very different. One of them had rough sketches of grecian style pillars and columns, it looked to be a study for art class. He’d listened to Bill attentively when he told him about his art classes, and he recognized the shading on these drawings to be something Bill explained as cross hatching. The next page he saw, was a very detailed portrait of someone he had recognized before, from the posters in Bill’s room. It was a very welldone portrait of the drummer from Nirvana, but, he couldn’t remember his name- not that he had even ever known it , though. He wouldn’t have even recognized him if not for being from a poster in Bill’s room, and in Mike’s opinion, that was the drummer’s biggest claim to fame- his most important achievement. He remembered everything Bill told him, for the most part, so he’d become quite familiar with Nirvana. Mike was excited to see the rest of the pages, until he wasn’t. The next page, was messy, but still very good, drawings of Stanley. They weren’t very detailed, but they were still very clearly of Stanley. They had little captions that Bill had written underneath them in messy, smudged pen ink. The dark writing stuck out from the light pencil sketches, though Mike couldn’t tell what they said. They were all in french, a tender touch that made Mike’s heart ache, he felt drenched in jealousy in an instant. He was glad he couldn’t tell what they meant, because they would no doubt make him feel worse. </span>
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  <span class="s3">“Theyre mostly just drawings of Stan, though,” Bill continued, and Mike wished he’d warned him earlier. He’d already seen some of those drawings, and he tried his best not to get noticeably sad. He skimmed through the pages with his thumb, trying to get to the end of all these Stanley drawings. But, Bill was right, unfortunately, most of his drawings were of him. It was a painful reminder to Mike where his affections laid, and where they would be forever, and who occupied his thoughts, more than he ever would. He wanted to hate them, but he couldn’t, they were so sweet, and so very good. They looked so much like him, every little detail of his face perfectly captured and replicated onto pen by pencil. He wondered how many of these drawings had been done from memory, and he knew that some of them probably were, and it hurt to think about. </span>
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  <span class="s3">He wondered if Stan knew about these drawings, and he wondered if Stan knew how lucky he was that Bill cared about him so much, studied him so much, was so entranced by his face. Mike would give anything to be the object of Bill’s affection, he wondered if Stan felt the same; he wondered if Stan would give anything to remain the object of Bill’s affection. He knew that it was an unfair expectation that Stan be as constantly affectionate, and as doting as Bill was, because to a certain extent, the way he felt for Stan wasn’t normal, and that he was extremely idealized by him, and that Bill acted the way he did some of the time so Stan wouldn’t leave him. And, while he knew it was an unfair standard, he often felt resentment towards Stan when he felt he didn’t meet that standard. He felt that Stan didn’t realize what he had sometimes, and that he wasn’t deserving of this kind of devotion. That he wasn’t worthy of sketchbook page after sketchbook page filled with desperate devotion. And sometimes, he got to a dark place where it was just he, himself and his jealousy- where he felt only he deserved that kind of devotion. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Sometimes, between the sketches of Stanley from various dates and times, and the random sketches of whatever Bill felt like drawing that particular day, there was a poem. Or a journal entry of sorts, or an angsty page dedicated to the lyrics of whatever song he related to at the time. The steady stream of sketches would be interrupted by them, and Mike had no choice but to look. He felt a bit guilty, since Bill had only given him permission to look at the drawings, but they were so eye catching. He couldn’t look away. This was a private look into his mind, into his inner most thoughts, into his art- how could Mike resist. One page was bunch of scribbles from different colour pen, and the pen ink looked smudged by a hand. It said “I cant stop it. Everything feels wrong. My whole body feels wrong. My personality feels wrong. I am wrong.”, and his heart ached as he turned the page, unsettled that Bill would ever feel that way. If he was with Bill, he would try his best to make sure that he’d never, ever feel that way. He hoped Stan tried to do the same. He was happy whenever a sad vent art would be followed up by a meaningless sketch, it reminded Mike that Bill could feel better, and that made him feel better- he hoped it made Bill feel that same hopefulness too. </span>
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  <span class="s3">He read a couple more poems, and song lyrics, he assumed he didn’t write the song lyrics, though. Something titled “Drain You” really stuck out to him, he wished he could pick his brain and see the meaning and intricacies of his thoughts. He wanted to know everything about Bill, inside and out. “I don’t know If i was allowed to see those but, your poems are really good, too. Really, really good.” Mike said, his voice giving away how impressed and in awe of him he was, he felt a bit embarrassed hearing himself speak in such a way. He was sometimes aware of how obvious he was, so he had no idea how Bill wasn’t aware. But, he supposed he could be a bit glad he was unaware, and take it as a blessing in disguise. He thought that if Bill ever did really know, he might act awkward around him- and tender, deep moments between them such as these wouldn’t be able to happen. If Mike couldn’t have his love; he was still very, very happy to have his company. “Holy shit, thank you. Don’t worry about it, of course you can see them, if you want to,” He beamed and Mike definitely wanted to, and held onto his sketchbook in his hands tightly, for as long as Bill would let him see it. Bill shrugged, and continued his thoughts. He spoke a bit absently, lost in the words he was saying, “I don’t know, I think I’m a better actually writer than poems and shit. Not that poems aren’t actual writings- you know what I mean. I mean, I’m better than writing stories, but thank you... a lot,” He meant very genuinely, and Mike felt his blush intensify and face feel even hotter at the sincerity in which Bill spoke, and the way his voice tremored ever so slightly to enunciate his words.</span>
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  <span class="s3"> “No problem,” Mike blurted out, trying desperately to hide how much he was smiling, and hoping that Bill didn’t notice it, “Do you read poetry? Or just mine,” He asked with a laugh, and oh boy- did Mike love the sound of that laugh. It was so intoxicating, it made whoever listen to it try to work so hard to be funny, chasing the euphoria that hearing it gave them. “Sometimes I do, when school and work isn’t too time consuming, ya know? Do you read it, or just write it?” Mike both answered, and asked. “I do a bit of both, but I try to write more than I read. I find if I read too much of one person’s poetry, my work starts to like... unintentionally sound like theirs. I wanna try and get better and find my own style, ya know?” And Mike nodded, an entranced in what he was saying, captivated in all meanings of the word. “I didn’t write, everything in that book, though. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me- like, I’m some sort of poetic genius or something,” Bill continued, laughing at his own words. Mike laughed too, he might not have thought he was a genius, but, he really, really did think he was already a great poet. So, maybe he shouldn’t have been laughing, because he sort of did think that. “Like, sometimes I just write lyrics to songs and stuff that I connect with, but like- just because I like them. I normally don’t show many people my sketchbooks so, I’m not trying to pass it off as my own words or anything like that. It’s all for my own sake,” He explained, and Mike nodded. </span>
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  <span class="s3">He felt like a bit of an idiot, for just sitting and nodding- feeling like he was doing an impression of a bobble head or something. He didn’t want Bill to share that opinion, so, he dared to ask a follow up question. “What kind of songs?” He asked, deeply wondering. Music was a deep and personal thing, so he hoped he could get to know Bill better by hearing his perspective on things through the music he liked. “Hold on, I can try and show you, if you want.” He took his sketchbook from him, so he could find what Mike asked him about. He did want Bill to show him, but he missed having the sketchbook in his hands. It was an intimate look at Bill, and having it was one step closer to his goal of knowing every little bit of him. He felt disconnected from him in a weird way, like he was suddenly so far away. Distanced. It was a callback to reality, Bill would always be an arms distance away, and no matter how much looking at his drawings and his poems could help him pretend, he was not his. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill skimmed through the pages, and sighed happily when he found it. “This one, for example. It’s the lyrics to ‘Drain You’ by Nirvana, I didn’t write that- wish I could’ve though,” He laughed a bit when he showed it to Mike, but, still holding the sketchbook in his own two hands. “Why that song, why do you like it so much?” Mike asked, The lyrics were cryptic, but endearing; he wondered how Bill would interpret them. The question was out of fascination, not judgement. He read and reread the lyrics, and could only dream about something like that being about him. And Bill knew that, so he answered it as such. He felt safe to be himself, safe to be genuine. He was happy Mike cared enough to ask him things like that. But, Mike quickly regretted asking. “Well like, I didn’t write it. But, sometimes I could’ve written it. Like, Drain You, describes me and Stan perfectly. I don’t know, sometimes, I feel like, I drain him unintentionally, because of you know... my BPD. And just, I won’t get into it because it’s deep and overshare-y, but, it just fits us so, so well. I don’t know, it’s probably really dumb, but, their music just really speaks to me a lot. Does that make any sense?.” Bill rambled, his ‘I don’t know’s, were a cover. He really did know, he just used them to deflect, make it seem like he wasn’t as present as he was; in hopes that someone wouldn’t criticize him, because if he said ‘I don’t know’ enough, they’d think he didn’t care, so neither would you. </span>
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<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Mike was saddened by the explanation, considering it was all about Stanley, and was a bit happy Bill had spared some of the details. Mike tried very, very hard to focus on the positive side of it. Bill had rambled to him, no one else but him. He felt comfortable doing so, and that had to have been something. Mike smiled, “I don’t think it’s dumb at all, I think it’s kind of cute,” Mike said, though, he thought it was a lot more than kind of. He quickly felt embarrassed, and felt regret wash over him at the use of that word. Knowing the cat was out of bag; though, there was something to be said about how it wasn’t really in the bag in the first time. But, Bill dismissed it, barely noticing it. He was so in denial that someone could love him, because hefelt that he was undeserving of it. He didn’t even fully believe Stan could love him, let alone, that Mike could so- he didn’t think anything of it, which reassured Mike. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill spaced out for a moment, forgetting what they were talking about specially. Something was tugging away at him, Mike couldn’t tell what, but he knew he wasn’t fully there at that moment. Bill chuckled at the train of thought in his own head, and thought about it for a second or so, before explaining it to Mike. “Richie calls me a faggot because he says I ‘keep a journal’,” He mused, absently, his mind very much elsewhere. “But, I call him a faggot for liking Marilyn Manson so, it all evens out,” He chuckled, and Mike laughed a bit too. “You don’t like him? Aren’t he and nirvana the same thing?” Mike asked, neither were his preference, and he didn’t watch MTV much- so he didn’t have extensive knowledge of either. He only knew of Nirvana from what Bill told him, and knew of Marilyn Manson’s discography from what Richie made them listen to when he drove them places. Bill gasped, fake offence on his face. Mike hoped there wasn’t any sincerity behind the fake offence and exaggerated face expression. “Of course not!!” Richie hates Nirvana, and I hate Marilyn Manson. The only times I could get him to listen to Nirvana was when we would get high together,” He explained, laughing, but bittersweet nostalgia was behind that laugh, but more bitterness than sweetness was behind that explanation. Mike couldn’t help but notice how Bill referred to him in past tense, but, didn’t get into it. He’d noticed that Bill didn’t hang out with Richie or Eddie at lunch anymore, and where Bill went, Stan followed (and Mike couldn’t get over that privilege, again, how he wished to be him-), so he just assumed they were off making out somewhere, or something. Whatever his brain made him jealous over on that given day. He figured he’d be able to pry an answer out of Eddie, for obvious reasons. He knew Richie better than anyone, so he’d know the ins and outs of their disagreement. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Or, he’d ask Bev; because she always knew everyone in the group’s business somehow. But for now, he wouldn’t trouble Bill by asking him about it. He’d enjoy this moment, a moment mixed with laughter, with the metronomic beats of his heart keeping time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">They sat like that for a good while longer, making each other laugh, under the radiant glow of the Maine sunlight. Every so often, a sheep would walk by close to them, and Mike would be happy to introduce them. A cream coloured sheep sauntered over to them, perhaps intrigued in what they were doing, or more so interested in grazing on the grass underneath them. Mike recognized her, she was one of the sheep he had yet to sheer that day, and her slightly overgrown coat indicated that. She was very soft, and always one of the friendlier sheep on their farm, Mike liked her quite a bit. She acted more like a dog than a sheep, she liked to be pet, and get affection and attention, so it was quite easy to get attached to her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Can you pet them?” Bill asked, voice sounding a bit nervous, he’d never gotten this close to a sheep before. Mike laughed, and wondered how anyone could ever be afraid of such a nice, docile animal. But he supposed he had the luxury of growing up on a farm, so maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge, “Of course you can, Bill! She likes being pet quite a bit,” He smiled to himself as Bill did do, petting the soft beige fluff on the top of her head. And, she really did like that, the sheep walked closure to him, and started licking his face, like how a dog would. Bill laughed, and squirmed to get away from the strange new sensation, he’d never been licked by a sheep before- as most people who didn’t grow up on a farm hadn’t. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Hey, cut it out!!” Bill laughed, but, still pet her, because he sort of didn’t want her to. He scratched behind her ear, like dogs liked, figuring she’d like that too. Mike laughed, with him, and at him. “Oh Cmon Bill, she’s just like a dog!” Mike teased, moving closer to pet the fluff on her back. Bill wasn’t squirming as much anymore, he was getting a bit used to it now. “You must’ve had some weird dogs-“ Bill retorted, still smiling. Mike thought for a moment, but shook his head in disagreement. He didn’t think that that was the case at all, “I don’t think so, she’s soft, and cute, and loyal, and has a name just like a dog. She’s like... a family pet that lives free range outside.” He explained, and Bill mulled what he said over, and, supposed that he was right. “What’s her name?” He asked, still petting her soft face, and giggling ever so often, every time she would ‘baaaahhhh’, going over to Mike’s house was like a petting zoo. “Daisy,” Mike told him, happy to see Bill enjoying himself so much, and hoped that that would mean that maybe Bill would come over a lot more often. “Hi, Daisy,” Bill spoke fondly, and it gave Mike butterflies to see him so fond of animals, so at home with them. But soon, Daisy walked away, on to find more grass to eat. “Bye, Daisy,” Bill giggled, even raising his hand to wave goodbye. Mike laughed, and Bill turned to look at him, “What? It would be impolite not to say good bye!” and Mike laughed, and supposed he was right. “Fair enough,” He cooed, and Mike wondered for a second wether cartoon hearts had popped up over his head in that moment, because he sure felt like they had. He really, really liked him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“You flipped out when she started getting closer to us, what, have you never had a dog before?” Mike asked, lightheartedly, but seriously. He wasn’t trying to be funny, but Bill laughed like he was. He wasn’t laughing at him for asking the question, rather the question itself. The answer seemed so obvious. “Of course not, that would involve taking care of something.” Bill scoffed, the scoff intended for his parents as if they were there, it wasn’t directed at Mike. Mike knew that, but, it still made him sad. Mike tried to laugh off what he said, “What are you talking about? They take care of you!” He tried to reason, things got very real very quickly- depressingly real, cynically real. A bit too edgy for Mike’s taste, he liked Bill, but he didn’t like him when he got like that. “They don’t really take care of me, they kinda just see me as the lanky kid that sorta looks like a combination of the two of them, that lives rent free in their second floor.” Bill laughed too, almost as if he was joking- but he most certainly was not.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Soon, conversion fizzled out, and they just sat. They were enjoying the nice weather, and each other’s company. Mike read Bill’s facial expressions as he observed him, wishing he could read his mind too. He looked troubled, like he wanted to ask him something, but couldn’t. He looked vacant, but, there- he had an odd look in his eyes. Finally, after a few minutes of shared silence, and Mike’s worried confusion, Bill blurted out, staring at him with wide eyes, “Hey, could you... um... help me?” He asked, voice desperate and quick, and the way his voice trembled indicated that this was difficult for him to ask. Mike’s interested peaked, he wondered what was on his mind, and, felt honoured he had chosen him to ask for help. He knew that that wasn’t easy for anyone to do, and was especially difficult for Bill. “Sure,” Mike answered, without a second thought. Bill felt reassured, and his shoulders noticeably dropped, and weren’t as tense. Not quite stress free, but better than before, Mike was happy with that. Bill paused for a moment, wondering how best to phrase what he needed to say, and wondering how to preface what he was about to say. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill mumbled, testing his words out loud to himself, then speaking them a bit louder and more clearly for Mike to hear, once he had decided they were okay. “Um, uh- I, I can’t dance-“ He blurted out, and Mike cocked an eyebrow in confusion. His look was that of confusion, but not judgement- he wanted Bill to feel safe to continue. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and he also wasn’t sure how that related to him needing help. That wasn’t a question, or favour, or anything- it was just a sentence. Bill took note of his confusion, and spoke again, explaining. “I was wondering if-“ He cut himself off again, realizing quickly how stupid he sounded. Mike hung on his every word, desperate to hear him finish. A small part of him wondered if and an even bigger part of him got his hopes up for it, if Bill was going to ask him to the dance that was coming up. Their school had their big dance every November around this time, it was like Prom, but not as formal, but, still somewhat formal. You had to wear a suit if you were a guy, but, girls dresses didn’t have to be as long and formal. He knew he shouldn’t, but, he kind of hoped that maybe- just maybe, he was so nervous because he was going to ask him to it. He could hope, at least. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Please- don’t make fun of me,” Bill laughed, to himself, and more specifically, at himself. And Mike felt bad that he’d ever worry that that could be a possibility. “You can tell me anything... or ask me anything” He reassured him, calmly, emphasizing the ‘ask me... ANYTHING’, but thinking ‘and by anything, I mean, please ask me to the dance,”. Maybe he was so shy because he was nervous to ask him, Mike could really, really hope. If hope was a drug, he was definitely getting high. “Could you... teach me like.. how to slow dance? I know that... you can, and I, really, really can’t so- I was hoping that-“ Bill cut himself off again, but his pleading eyes spoke for him, but, Mike was so conflicted. He was, for one thing, disappointed. But also, a bit mad, if he was being honest. Bill’s cluelessness got on his nerves sometimes, and now was one of those times. Why on earth should be teach the guy he liked... how to dance with someone else. Sure, he was more than happy to do Bill favours, and to do Stan favours but... this was crossing a line. No, he absolutely was not going to do that. No, sorry Stan, but, he was not going to teach your boyfriend how to dance with you. Nope. No way. Bill sensed his apprehension, and thought he should explain his reasoning, because, it was something odd to ask a friend. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“This is just, the first dance Stan’s ever had the courage to go to so, I don’t know- I want him to have a good time. He’s had a really, really tough time lately so, I want him to have a good time. And, this is the last formal we can go to... before prom, and then graduation. So, I was... I was really hoping you could help me but... I totally understand. If like, you don’t want to.” Bill explained, sounding a bit defeated as he neared the end of his explanation. Now Mike really didn’t know how to feel. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">For starters, he wouldn’t necessarily say that Stan was having a tough time lately- considering, he was responsible for an entire towns worth of tough times. But, the more he thought of it, he couldn’t help but feel bad. Considering, Stan becoming... that.. wasn’t necessarily his fault, and he really didn’t want to be... doing those things... Mike couldn’t bring himself to even think of those horrible details. He did feel very bad for Stan, now that he thought of it, he pitied him, in a strange way. He knew the Stan that was still there, probably hated himself for all the horrible things his affliction made him do, and, he saw it from a perspective he didn’t before. He did feel really bad for him, now. And, he couldn’t help but think of something Bill said, that really stuck with him, more so than how things usually stuck. This had been the first dance Stan ever felt comfortable enough to go to, which, was a big deal- for the entire group. Stan and Eddie had made a deal, that if one of them was going, they’d both go. Their solidarity meant a lot to each other- because, they weren’t as out and nowhere near as proud as Bill and Richie were. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, their partner’s eagerness to be out and be seen, and be the representation in a small town they’d wished they had- that never rubbed off on them. This was a big deal that Eddie and Stan, specifically Stan in this instance, had agreed to go. Mike was proud of Stan, and how far he’d come, he knew he struggled a lot with stuff like that. It was tough on them all, being the only gay kids in school. And, he also couldn’t help but think of Bill. He couldn’t help but think of how selfless he was. Because, he’d define my had a worse time than Stanley had been having, judging by outward signs. His stutter had come back, for crying out loud. And yet, there he was, worrying about Stanley. Bill sure was a great boyfriend, even though he wasn’t his boyfriend. And, as much as he envied that, and was jealous of it all, he felt strangely compelled to help him, against his better judgement. A smile crept onto his face, and he sighed as he weighed the pros and cons one last time. At least, he’d be able to spend some time with Bill, and, he’d be in his good graces for doing him a favour. And, being in Bill’s good books was even better than getting to look inside of his sketchbooks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">So, he nodded his head yes, against his better judgement. Bill was overwhelmed with happiness at the agreement, and thanked him over and over and over. Mike felt happy he could make Bill so happy. Mike smiled now, at Bill’s wide grin. “Um, yah, sure, of course.” He verbalized, wondering how it would all happen. He wasn’t out to his family, and neither was Bill, so they’d have to be discrete about practicing. “Um, just- Can we do it inside? I wouldn’t want my mom to see me and you- you know?” And Bill nodded. Bill stood up excitedly, happy that Mike had agreed to help him. He offered his hand to Mike, to pull him up and help him to his feet. Mike took it gladly, and held onto it a bit longer than he should, and the heat of Bill’s grip lingered on his hand as Bill pulled his away. “Thank you,” Bill spoke again, and it wasn’t going to be the last he’d said it to him that day. His tone was a lot more genuine this time, not to say it wasn’t before, it was just... more so. And Mike was happy he felt so strongly about it, and was more than happy to feel like the hero that saved his day. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill was eager, desperate even, to make this the best dance ever, for Stan. He wanted Stan to have a bit or normalcy, for once in their relationship, and for once as of lately. He deserved to be able to go to these stupid school events, that were so normal for straight people to go to, they deserved to be treated like normal teenagers- even though nobody else seemed to think so. And, it also didn’t help that people thought they were such an odd match. Bill, was, and always had been, a weird art kid with barely any friends. But, in high school, because of his baseball success, Stan had more or less branched out and away from the same, ‘weird kid’ monicker he had in elementary and middle school. Still, he held onto the ‘loser’ title he and his friends had, as almost a badge of honour, although, he didn’t really fit it anymore. And his friends knew it, and Stanley tried to ignore it. He was ‘popular’ in that cliche, way that american pop culture described social roles. And, sometimes Bill worried if he didn’t have a place in his life anymore because of it. And even though he was always Stan’s biggest priority, and he’d always make time for him above all and everything else, he still worried... a lot. He was desperate to hold onto him. And doing something like this, would touch him, and get him to stay. “People find it hard to believe that someone as popular as Stan would associate with a dork like me... </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">... sand box love never dies”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s4">He and Stanley were in the same classes, obviously. In such a small town, there was only one grade school, and most likely, only one class for each grade. They didn’t officially meet until grade 1, when Bill was playing in the sandbox and Stanley came up to him, frantically.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>It was a calm, warm early autumn in Maine. Just as sunny as it was the day before, and probably just as sunny as it would be tomorrow. Weather in Maine was temperate, and it was nice. The leaves rustled just right, the clouds in the sky werent grey and ominous- they were fluffy, and beautifully white. Bill sat in the sandbox in the playground of his school, alone, and staring at those clouds. He’d just got there, and the sandbox was one of his favourite spot in the entire playground, it was warm, and it was cozy. That’s why he was so happy when he saw Henry Bowers and his friends leave it be, so he could sit there now. He’d seen them burry something in there, and knock down some kid’s sandcastle and leave. Bill was happy to have it all to himself, and was a bit happy Henry and his goons scared everyone away from it that recess. It was a nice place to sit in and be alone. Bill didn’t really like to be alone, but, he’d gotten pretty good at it. He</em> <em>had one friend, and his name was Eddie Kaspbrak, but they didn’t know each other very well. Life sure did suck when your only friend was out sick for the day, it got really lonely really fast. But, Bill could entertain himself pretty well, he’d gotten really good at that, too. His baby brother took up most of his parent’s attention, so he regularly made up stories and played pretend to keep himself occupied. He was fully invested in a story concept, when he was stirred and pulled away. He mentally set his story to the side, as if putting away a pen and setting a notebook back in a drawer that didn’t exist. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>“Hey, um... I’m real sorry to bother you but-“ Bill looked up at who was speaking to him. He’d never heard someone his age speak so formally, but his soft spoken manner of speaking was unmistakably childlike. He wore a perfectly crisp and freshly ironed white button up suit,</em> <em>and blue denim overall shorts. The buckles and clips on them were perfectly symmetrical, in a way that was definitely done on purpose. Bill wondered for a second why someone would care so much about that sort of thing- especially considering how old they were; only seven. He had perfectly ironed baby blue socks, that were up to the same length as either ankle, carefully folded to be so. The socks had frills on them, too, sort of like the socks the girls in his class did. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>But, Bill thought they looked better on Stanley then they did any girl, he didn’t know why he thought that of all things, but he did. Stanley’s outfit was complete with perfectly shined, creaseless penny loafers. Bill didn’t even know they made penny loafers for kids, he always</em> <em>thought they were for grown ups, specially, old people. The shiny copper of the pennies caught the attention of the sun, and the light brightly gleamed off of them. It brought attention to the date embossed in them, “1911”, and they were both dated that year. That had to be on purpose too, Bill was sure. He wondered what was so significant, maybe the year? Or maybe it was the number eleven, but, he supposed neither of that mattered right now. He recognized the boy, though. His name was Stanley Uris. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>He was a boy in his class, who seemed nice enough, but he’d never spoken to him. He was very quiet, and he seemed to only have one friend just like he did, though their paths never crossed either.</em> <em>His name was Richie Tozier, who was the class clown, or at least, tried to be. He was loud and obnoxious, and was always the kid who yelled during nap time in kindergarten, and was the one who tried to make apple juice come out of his nose during lunch time. Bill never knew why the two hung out with each other. He didn’t know much about Stanley, all he knew was that he was very, very sick as a child. He had pneumonia or something- so he started in his class a year after everyone else did. He had no idea why he was talking to him right now, but he seemed really upset, so Bill was compelled to listen to him, and help him in some way if he could. He was just happy to have someone to talk to. He looked really upset too, and his eyes were watery and his cheeks were tear stained, as if he’d been crying. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you... but, Henry Bowers took something of mine and buried it in here,” Stanley spoke again, just in case Bill hadn’t heard him. He wasn’t sure if he did or not, considering he didn’t reply. Bill hoped he didn’t take his absence of a reply as rudeness- since that was not at all the case. He just didn’t speak unless he absolutely had to, because of his stutter. Bill cringed at the mention of that name, he’d been on the receiving end of his torment more than once. And, that explained why he’d looked like he’d been crying. But, he didn’t look psychically hurt. Walking away from Henry Bowers with tears was common, walking away without injury was not. Bill was glad he wasn’t hurt, he</em> <em>wasn’t sure why he was so glad- considering he didn’t even know him. He’d always been interested in getting to know him, though. “I can h-h-help you find it, wh-what was it?” Bill cringed at his own speaking voice, and breathed a sigh of relief when his sentence was finally over. He was fully expecting Stanley to make fun of his stutter, and leave, as most kids his age did. But, he was totally taken aback by him, he didn’t have any friends, and was fully expecting him to make fun of his stutter and leave. But, he didn’t. He didn’t pay it any mind at all, it was as if he didn’t even have one in his mind. Bill liked Stanley already. “It’s my kippah. It’s really special to me, please, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me find it”</em> <em>Stanley spoked, worriedly. He had nervous tremors in his voice, as if the thought of being without his missing object terrified him to no end. His eyes got wider, and waterier, as if he was going to cry again. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>“I’m r-r-really s-s-sorry he tuh-took ih-it fr-from y-you, b-b-but, I don’t kn-kn-know what a k-kippah is. T-tell me what it l-looks like and I c-c-can help” Bill stuttered out, he hoped his words comforted him a bit. He he really hoped Stanley stayed as well. So he could help him, and so he could get to know him a bit better. He wasn’t used to a conversion with someone his own age continuing on this long, especially with</em> <em>someone who wasn’t Eddie. Stan thought for a moment, wondering how best to explain what a kippah was to someone. He’d never had to before, most of everyone he hung around with was jewish, so they knew. He explained, “It’s something jewish people, like me wear. It’s for god.. or something, I can’t remember the whole thing right now. My dad wears it and all my family does too, it goes on the top of your head. It’s super important. It’s really bad if I don’t wear it” His voice growing more frantic, but he didn’t look like he was going to cry, at least, for now. Bill’s words did comfort him, he liked Bill already, he hoped they could become friends after this. He seemed really nice. Bill nodded, and got up to help Stanley look for it. They searched the sandbox, and Stanley did not like it one bit, he hated the thought of</em> <em>getting dirty- and the thought of all that sand getting stuck in his nails and in his clothes made him feel gross. Bill saw what was probably his kippah poking out a bit from a shallow pile of sand, and gave it to him. “Is th-this it?” Bill asked, slowly starting to become less self conscious of his stutter around him. Stanley nodded, and happily took it from him, and thanked him over and over again for helping him find it. He was immediately saddened when he examined it closer in his hands. “W-whats wrong?” Bill asked, a bit confused. “It’s all dirty,” Stan said simply, sniffling a bit. Bill understood why that would trouble him so much, considering how much he cared about his neatness. He said it softly, too, no doubt worrying about what Bill would reply to his response- indicating he’d been bullied before about his attention to tidiness. Bill didn’t want him to feel like he was going to ever be judged around him, he was happy he felt comfortable enough to be honest with him. He grabbed it from him, gently. He lightly scuffed the dirt and sand off with his hand, but was careful not to be too rough- since it was something Stanley felt very strongly about because of his religion. He didn’t really understand his religion- or know what it was, but, that didn’t mean he was going to judge him for it. He offered it back to him, all clean. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4"><em>“B-Better?” Bill asked, and Stan</em> <em>smiled, and took it from him. His smile made Bill smile, they were both a bit happier. Stanley put his kippah back on his head, and clipped it to his curly hair with a barrette he got from his front pocket in his overalls. Bill noticed he felt noticeably calmer now that he had it back on, it was like his security blanket. He didn’t look as stressed out anymore. “Please don’t say it looks like a frisby. Henry and all his friends have been laughing at me for it all day,” He said, but it was more of a plead. His voice trembled a bit more nervously, as it had been before. “I’m r-really s-s-sorry about-t-t th-that, St-St-Stanley.” He could empathize with him, as it had been him who’d been treated very similarly by Henry Bowers, and it could very well be him next. They never seemed to have a shortage of stutter related jokes or punchlines, and imitating him never ceased to make them laugh either. But, usually, when he saw other kids get beaten up or bullied by Henry Bowers, Bill would walk right on by, as most kids did. Out of fear, and because they were just glad that that other child was taking the fall for them, and in a way ‘taking one for the team’. But, Bill didn’t feel that way when it came to hearing about Stanley being teased, he wished he could’ve taken the fall for him. He’d gladly hear another 1,000 stutter related insults, if it meant Stanley didn’t have to be teased. He swore to himself he’d say something to Bowers, or anyone else, if he ever heard Stanley being teased again. Even if that meant he’d get teased, or worse, too. “They call me all sorts of mean names, too. They’re too young to be speaking like that.” Stanley softly mused, and Bill almost wanted to laugh at his formalness. He’d never heard a peer talk in such a way, if he closed his eyes, it could’ve been an adult he was talking to. But, instead</em> <em>of laughing, he was there for him. Bill smiled, hoping it could be contagious in the same way Stanley’s was. Bill exclaimed, “I d-don’t th-think it looks l-like a fr-fr-frisby, I th-think it’s cool!” And his smile was, a wide grin tugged at his lips. “Really?” Stan asked, in pure disbelief. He’d never heard someone be so nice to him about it. Richie was nice to him, sure, but it always was in a goofy way, a way you couldn’t quite take seriously or take to heart. Bill’s niceness was genuine, and not only did Stanley take it to heart, it was something that would become his heart’s only topic of conversion. Bill would quickly become the only thing his heart would ever y’all about. “Yeah,” Bill confirmed, smiling even more now that Stanley was as well. They both sat down, now. Both sitting on the box part, Stanley wanted no part of the sand within it. “I think your stutter is cool, too” Stanley complimented, inching closer to him on the wooden boarder that enclosed the sand in the box. Bill blushed, even though he didn’t quite know why he was. He really liked hearing Stanley speak so kindly to him, though. So maybe that had something to do with it, he though. “I w-won’t s-say anything ab-b-bout your k-kippah if you d-don’t s-say anything ab-about m-my st-stut-t-tter” Bill proposed, looking over at him, and offering his hand for Stan to shake. Stanley took it, and shook it. His heart was beating more than his voice was trembling, he grew even warmer at his touch, warmer than the light of the sun could ever make him. “Deal,</em> <em>Bill” Stanley agreed, smiling as he shook his hand up and down. It was a joking gesture, but one they both took seriously. And they hung out with each other the rest of the recess, and every other recess that would come to follow. And recesses soon turned to after school slumber parties, and summer breaks, and pretty much every moment of free time the two of them would come to have. And, they’d never judged each other for anything since, ever. Sandbox love never dies.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill sat on the end of Mike’s bed, and was anxiously eager to start. He watched as Mike set the boombox he’d brought inside onto his desk table, and fumbled with the buttons on the front of it, and put on a song. It would be a bit awkward if there wasn’t any music playing. It was a soft, slow tone, with a steady, soft beat. And had a kind of 80s synth in the back, which dated it a bit. “Ready?” Bill asked, and Mike nodded, a bit anxious himself. He was looking forward to dancing with him, and spending this time with him, but, he still was saddened because of the reason why. But, he tried to look on the bright side of it. This was an intimate moment between them, even thought it was fleeting, and for the sake of a favour- a favour for someone else, to top it all off. But, still intimate nonetheless. He was sure he wouldn’t ask Ben, or Eddie, or Richie, or even Bev to help him in such a way, their bond was special. Bill trusted him, and that was worth it’s weight in gold; even though that trust didn’t come with his heart. Bill got up from his bed and just stood there, waiting for direction. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Mike chuckled at his cluelessness, and found it adorably endearing. Bill laughed, “I gotta warn you, before we start... I’m very... uncoordinated.” He warned, and Mike laughed, obviously he was- or else he wouldn’t have asked for help. He thought of a nicer, more reassuring way to phrase that though. “No worries, that’s why you asked me to help! Plus, I’m sure you’re a lot better than you think you are,” Bill laughed again, and shook his head very definitely, ‘no.’ “I’m like... a baby deer, kind of. I got no control over these skinny lil’ legs of mine.” Mike chuckled at his comment, but disagreed with it. “What’s so bad about being like a baby deer?” He asked, teasing him a bit. “Well, I agree with that- in theory. There isn’t, but, I just.. I have the clumsiness of the baby deer, just, with none of the cuteness.” And, Mike laughed but, wished he could voice his disagreements, he didn’t see it that way... at all. He thought everything Bill did was cute, even the uncoordinated, shaky parts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“There’s nothing cute about a 6’ foot something 17 year old falling over himself and tripping on his own feet.. let’s just put it that way.” He spoke matter of factly, he made himself cringe. Mike inched closer to him, “Well, then let’s get started so we can make sure that doesn’t happen, yah?” He asked, and Bill agreed, stepping closer to him. They were standing really close together now, and Mike felt like his world was ending- his heart was beating out of his chest, he struggled to breathe, he’d never been so close to him. He hoped he wasn’t showing any of that, though. They were around the same height, so their eyes could meet. It was something Bill was a bit unused to, most of his friends were quite a bit shorter than him. Their order of height was; Richie, who stood at 6’3, then followed closely by Bill, 6’2, then Mike, who was 6’1, and Ben and Stan were tired for fourth place, both being 5’8, and Eddie stood at 5’7- and lastly, Bev, being the shortest out of them all, was 5’3. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill liked the eye contact for a change. They stared eye to eye, deep blue meeting dark brown, the eye contact wasn’t awkward, but it was constant. The only thing interrupting it was quick blinks. Bill looked calm as could be and his eyes mirrored that, but, he was very confused as to what to do. He felt bad for not doing anything yet, he hoped Mike didn’t think that meant he wasn’t taking it seriously or something. Without thinking, and doing what he thought slow dancing was like, he grabbed onto his hips, possessively, but not tightly. Keeping him there because he thought that he should, and that that’s how it went. Mike blushed at the sudden, but not unwelcomed touch. He stiffened up at the touch, unsure of what to do, but, he liked being held by him like that. Bill felt him tremble under his touch, and took that as a very, bad sign. He immediately let go, and looked at him apologetically. He was worried he’d crossed a boundary or something, and mumbled out many apologies. Bill, as always, was the last to know of Mike’s crush on him; and had no idea how much he liked his touch, how much he missed his touch. And, how much he wished it would return. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He missed the way his strong hands felt on his hips, he wished he could tell Bill to keep them there without that being awkward. “What were you going for there? That cliche move where the boy holds their partners hips, and their partner has their hands on their shoulders?” Mike laughed, saving face, and pretending that that was the reason he went blank at his touch. And Bill kind of nodded, he wasn’t really sure actually, he was just doing what he thought he was supposed to do. “Cmon, Big Bill, I thought you wanted this to be special,” Mike laughed, and spoke a bit condescendingly to mask his true feelings, and Bill laughed too, sheepishly. He was glad he didn’t cross a boundary or anything. Mike liked this gentlemanly side of him, but, he wished he was a bit less worried about crossing boundaries and just touch him already. Bill thought that this was just a friend helping a friend, and Mike wasn’t sure how he felt about letting him continue on thinking that that’s what it was. Mike gingerly took Bill’sright hand, and put it on his waist, “Your hand goes here,” He explained, and Bill nodded, silently understanding. “What do I do with this one?” He held up his left hand, eager for Mike to take it and show him what to do with it. Mike smiled at his cluelessness, and his eagerness that was such a cute colour on him. He grabbed his hand, and intertwined their fingers together. His breath hitched at the feeling, and cursed how perfect their fingers fit together, how beautifully they interlocked- because he knew, this was the last time they’d ever be that way. “Our hands stay like this, and, I can teach you how to spin your partner, if you’d like that,” And Bill nodded, “I’d really like that,” He beamed, hoping he’d be able to learn that. He wasn’t very good- at all, but, he’d learn to make Stanley happy. Bill held his hand tightly, though he wasn’t going anywhere in the first place. And, he wished he never would. But sadly, he knew they wouldn’t be able to stay there like that, forever, together. Soon enough, the songs would stop and time would cease to stand still, and Bill would have to leave- and go running back into Stanley’s arms. But, he could stay here like this, for now, and close his eyes and pretend as they swayed to the music. He could pretend that this was his future, for a little bit. And they were like that, for awhile. And Mike enjoyed the endearing way Bill would step on his feet, until the practice paid off and they didn’t anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">After a few hours of practicing, Bill actually really got the hang of it, and Mike was kind of impressed. “Think you’ll be able to remember all of that?” Mike asked, finally letting go of his hand to turn the soft music off, missing the feeling of his hand in his as he did so. He was trying to catch his breath as well, not because he was tired or overworked- because he was left so breathless by Bill’s presence. “I hope I can, maybe once more we could like.. go over it before the actual dance, if you wouldn’t mind,” Bill asked, sitting back down on Mike’s bed, the springs in it creaked as he plopped all of his weight on it all at once. “Sure, if you think that’d help.” He said, trying his very best to mask his excitement; he wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, he was already looking forward to it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Mike asked, inching towards asking Bill if he wanted to stay the night, or, in the very least, stay for dinner. But, he wasn’t quite ready to ask, he hadn’t gotten the courage to yet. He wished things could be easier with him, and he wouldn’t get so nervous. Bill laid back, resting his back on the soft sheets of his bed. He patted the spot next to him, wanting Mike to sit with him. Mike couldn’t help but feel his cheeks grow warmer, the image of Bill, on his bed, patting the space next to him, inviting him to join.. was too much for him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Even if it was pure hearted, and Bill was under the impression it was a gesture from one friend to another, it still meant a lot to him, and was a bit overwhelming in fact. He wished he’d clue into his crush on him... just so he didn’t do things like that, because things like that made it all the more harder. He’d always see him as just a friend, and, it stung more than being rejected. He walked over, and sat a good distance away from him, closer to his bedside table than to where Bill lay stretched out. “Fuck, do I have the plague or something? Cmere,” Bill joked, not meaning anything at all by it, and that’s what hurt Mike the most about it. He inched a tiny bit closer to him, but, it was hard to tell he’d moved at all. Bill was a bit hurt by that, and wondered why his friend wouldn’t sit closer to him, it lingered in his mind. “To answer your question, I have a hockey game later tonight.” Bill answered, his cheery tone was a bit stained with hurt. “School, or travel?” Mike asked, deeply interested in all the workings of Bill’s life, he knew he played both so, he wondered what he had today. “Travel,” He answered, “It’s a home game, I have to be at the arena by 4:30 to be at practice before it, though.” Bill explained, and Mike nodded. He was sad now that he knew he couldn’t stay much longer. He was going to treasure these last few minutes they had together. “Oh, a home game... I should go and see you play one of these days,” Mike spoke, hinting at Bill inviting him. But, it went right over Bill’s head unintentionally. Bill wasn’t trying to be mean, he would never try to be mean to anyone, much less his best friend. But, romantic type stuff usually did go over his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Yah, one of these days you should. Stan always comes to watch my games, you could watch them with him.” He said, his cheerful tone back in full force at the thought of seeing Stanley later that night. Mike’s smile faded, he didn’t really want to do that, he wouldn’t want to be the third wheel, and, he was sad that Bill didn’t pick up on his wish to be invited. “Hey, Mike, I didn’t bring a watch, do you have the time?” He asked, speaking again. Mike brought his wrist in front of his face, and lifted his sleeve so his watch could be visible. He looked at the time, “It’s 4:15,” He informed him, and in a panic, and Bill barely even let him finish before he groaned out a very drawn out, “Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk-“, “I’m gonna be so fucking late.. FUCK. I lost track of time, I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. Holy shit, I’m in so much shit-“ He explained, and Bill got up from the bed, grabbed his sketchbook he’d rested at the foot of it, and ran to the door. But, he said a proper good bye first, even though he was in a rush, he still wanted to be polite. Mike was touched by the gesture. And, was happy Bill had fun. “Thank you so much for having me, and for teaching me, I don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you,” Bill said, pulling him into a quick hug, and Mike felt so at home in his arms. He treasured the embrace for a few short moments, breathing in his scent as he buried his head against the crook of his neck. He pulled away though, making sure to keep Bill on schedule, “Thank you, but, get out of here idiot, you’re gonna get in trouble,” He reminded him, smiling. Bill laughed, and hurriedly ran out the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">After a few moments, Mike watched from his bedroom window as he saw Bill’s car pull away, and drive off from his driveway. He missed him, dearly. All he had left of their time together that afternoon, was the memories of his body heat, and the echoed replay of “friend” that haunted his thoughts. Wishing they could be more, but knowing they never would. He was a little less jealous of Stan after that day, though, since their relationship was the reason they’d shared that dance lesson; so, he had Stan to thank, in a strange way. He owed him one. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley was so, so excited to watch his boyfriend play hockey, and hang out with him after the game. He knew he felt the way Bill felt when he went to his baseball games, and he felt even happier. He loved to watch his boyfriend play hockey, he was always so proud of him. It was so fun to watch the person you love do something they’re good at. And Bill was really good at hockey. You’d think, someone as uncoordinated as him, wouldn’t be good- and that putting him on ice would be a disaster. But, strangely enough, he was really good at it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He’d taught Stanley to skate a few years ago, but he’d since admitted to him that he lied about not knowing how to, just so Bill could teach him. Not that Bill minded though; all that time together, and holding his hands and his hips steady so he wouldn’t fall; was time he’d treasure forever. Stan watched every game he played, as long as it was in Derry. He played for their school team, and travel hockey on the side, so, he was out of town for it a lot. But, when he could go, he always did! Having Stan there to support him, was Bill’s favourite part of playing. He played better for him, always trying to impress him. Stanley never got tired of seeing him look up at him through the glass, with a goofy smile, looking to see if he’d seen it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, he always did, and always cheered him on for it. Stan watched the scenery pass by his window, eager for his mom to finally get to the arena, wanting to tell his mom to hurry, but not doing so. He didn’t want to be rude. He smiled instead, thinking of all the fun they were going to have that night. He hadn’t seen him since Friday at school, and he really, really missed him. He was called out of his daydreaming, his mom called to him from the drivers seat, asking him a question, “What time do you want me to pick you up after the game?” She asked, and Stan was a bit startled, not expecting her voice. “I- um. No need, Bill’s driving me home after the game. And, we’re going to hang out afterwards, too.” He told her, she sighed while he was speaking. “I would’ve liked to have known that ahead of time, you need to stop telling me things so last minute... Stanley,” and Stanley nodded. “Sorry mom,” He smiled sheepishly at her, hoping she’d drop the subject and not be too mad at him. She smiled back at him, “No, no it’s fine. You’re nearly 18 years old... I don’t need to know everything about what you do. Just, don’t stay out past your curfew. I want you home by 11.” She told him, and Stanley nodded again. “And I mean, in the house by 11. In the driveway by 11 doesn’t count, tell your chauffeur, Bill, that too.” She explained, and Stanley laughed, “Gotcha loud and clear. In the house by 11.” She looked at him fondly in the rear view mirror, “Thank you, sweetie. Don’t make me worried- I only have one of you, you know.” She reminded him, and he laughed. “So, you’d allow me to do whatever I wanted if there was a spare?” and she scoffed, “You know that’s not what I meant!- I meant that,” And she trailed on, and on, about how important he was to both her, and his father. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley listened, but his eyes and his mind were elsewhere. He looked out the windows, watching for the arena, and he was busy thinking about Bill again. He’d heard her speech a million times, it was mostly just guilt tripping to get him to behave, and not do anything too stupid. Emotional blackmail to keep him in line, he still thought it was sweet. Soon after, her line of questioning started. Asking about what his friends were up to, asking how Bill’s hockey was going, how all his friends were all doing in school, all that sort of thing. The usual mother gossip. Until, very dark question was asked. “You and all your friends are staying safe.. right? With that sick monster out there on the streets.. eating all of those people... it’s a wonder why I even let you out of my sight...” She spoke, worry echoing from her voice, her words stabbing into him like daggers. He couldn’t help but feel overwhelming, terrible guilt. ‘You’re talking to that sick monster right now mom! You proud yet?’ He thought, but obviously, did not say. “Yah, yah we’re all staying safe.” He said, trying to reassure her with a very forced smile. “How’s Bill doing... or as your father says, William,” And they both laughed. “Oh um, he’s good.” He said flatly, hoping a sudden quiver or voice crack wouldn’t give anything away, you watched your own back when you weren’t out to your parents. And there was always a thin veil of paranoia induced secrecy over everything you said, hoping you didn’t accidentally say too much. “Is he seeing anyone?” She asked, as noisy as she ever was. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley blushed wildly, and tried to cover his face in his coat, hoping it wasn’t too apparent. “I.. uh-. No. No he isn’t seeing anyone,” He lied, if she wanted to know who he was seeing... she was already looking at him. He cursed himself as he heard his words replay in his head, wanting to smash the tape recorder in his thoughts. He totally gave himself away, but, thankfully for him, his mom wasn’t looking for any clues, and wasn’t privy to anything. When you’re in the closet, you always assume everyone is analyzing your words the same way you are, but, most of the time.. they aren’t. Stan was more than safe. “Oh, that’s a shame. That Bill is a really nice boy, I would’ve thought he’d found a girlfriend by now.” She spoke, tsk-tsking for affect. Stanley couldn’t help but want to laugh, and feel a bit of inadequacy at the prospect of him settling down with a girl, rather than him. It didn’t sit right with him. He also couldn’t help but worry. If she was wondering why Bill hadn’t found a girlfriend yet... he couldn’t help but wonder if they had those same thoughts about him. What if they were wondering about him, too! “Yep. Real shame.” He spoke flatly, not knowing what else to see. Suddenly the air in the car felt heavy, crushing in fact. And was it just him, or was it getting hot in there? He couldn’t help but start to sweat, and the lights in the car seemed to get a bit brighter. He felt like he was being interrogated all of a sudden, he didn’t like it one bit. But, thankfully, they’d pulled into the arena parking lot, which was his saving grace. “Bye mom, love you, thanks for driving me-“ He said quickly, “Love you too son! Wish Bill luck if you-“ But, her words were cut short. He slammed the door as he ran out of it. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Not only to get out of that situation, also because, he was finally there! And he was so, so happy to be. The big, grey building was surrounded by trees that were orange and yellow, it was truly fall in Maine. And he couldn’t possibly think of spending this beautiful fall night any other way. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley’s heart was buzzing as he walked inside the rink, his heart absolutely overflowing with excitement. He was so in love, and it felt so good. He couldn’t wait to see Bill! He always looked so cute after a game, his nose was always a bit reddened by the cold arena air, and his cheeks were always reddened too, and were the most perfect shade of pink. And, his hair was always so soft after being in his helmet. And watching him play was a whole other story. He always felt so special, knowing his boyfriend was out there. Every time he would wave to him from the glass, he felt more and more weightless, floating with love and with pride. But, now, since his new abilities and what not, he had to preface- he wasn’t literally floating, just a figure of speech. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">But, he sure did feel like he was floating, though. And, the best part of it all, was the smile Bill had on his face whilst he played. It was so bright, and so warm, Stanley was sure it could melt the ice he skated on. It made him feel so happy, to see Bill so happy. Because, in his opinion, no one deserved happiness more than Bill Denbrough. Stanley tried to make his way through the crowded arena lobby. It might not have been busy to people who came from a big city, but, it was certainly very busy by Derry’s standards. For whatever reason, despite the community’s small size, they had one of the only large arenas in that area of Maine. It was a huge arena, bigger than Derry needed anyways, because it serviced so many counties. It was super busy, especially on a Saturday night. Lots of people were there to watch the game, and there was a big crowd of people in the lobby- well, bigger than Stan would usually see in any other place in Derry. He hated big crowds, he dreaded this part of going to see Bill’s games. Crowded spaces made Stanley feel trapped, and gave him a lot of anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, crowds were even harder now; since he’d been possessed. Every time he saw a man, he saw a potential target, a next meal. He didn’t see a man for what he was, he saw what he could offer him, how much he could fulfil him, it made him sick to know he now had no choice but to see the world like that. He hated it so, so much. But, this was all worth it... it was worth it all to see Bill. Suddenly a face he recognized peered through the crowd. It made him feel a lot better, a lot safer, it was Bill! Calm always flooded him when he saw his face. He made his way over to him, “Bill!! Oh my gosh, hi!! He said, overjoyed, and Bill radiated that same joy back to him. He knew better than to kiss him in that moment, but he sure did want to. And, Stanley knew that he wanted to- so that was good enough for the both of them. “Hey, baby, look at how cute you look...” He whispered, so no one else but then could hear. It was a bit hard to hear over the hustling and bustling crowd of the lobby, but, he could still hear him a bit. Stan looked at the ground, trying to hide his blush. “I could say the same about you...” He giggled, “But, hey- Why are you here? Shouldn’t you.. like, be out there. Not that I’m not happy to see you, I’m very, very happy to see you,” He asked, but, reassuring him with the last part of what he said, he knew how Bill was so, he didn’t want him to take offence to what he said- and somehow interpret that he didn’t want to be speaking with him. “I’m out here to talk to you!” He explained, and Stan grinned. “How’d you know Id be here right now?” He queried. “Oh, I knew your mom always drops you off to games like... fifteen minutes early... give or take. So, I knew you’d be coming in right about now.” He explained, and Stanley nodded, understanding now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“I really should get going though, I wanted just wanted to tell you to... um. Meet me just over there, after 1st period, okay? It’s super important!!” He said, and pointed to the mouth of a vacant hallway about 10 feet from where they were. Stanley agreed, and confirmed they he knew where to be. Bill started walking away back in the direction of the lockers. Stan knew his coach was not very fond of players leaving right before a game so, he was touched he’d do that for him. He missed him as he watched him walk away, but, he knew his absence would not be felt for long. He walked over to the ticket booth, eager to finally get his ticket for tonight’s game. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan waited eagerly for the players to make their way on the ice. He shivered as he waited, it seemed to get colder and colder every time he came to one of these games. The away team came onto the ice first, they were from Augusta, Stan had vaguely remembered Bill tell him. Their jerseys were yellow and red, and, Stanley thought they were probably the ugliest things he’d ever seen. The arena slightly came to life at their arrival, some faint cheers here and there. They went to one side of the ice, and Stanley’s heart buzzed even more, he was really looking forward to seeing Bill. Finally! Derry’s team skated onto the ice, and there was a noticeably louder cheer when they came on the ice. It was a cheer that Stanley participated in this time. The crowd was fully alive now. Stanley didn’t even care how cold the arena was, because as soon as he saw Bill, he immediately felt so warm. His boyfriend smiled at him from the ice, and Stanley smiled back, even brighter. He felt like he was going to burst! He couldn’t wait for the game to start, and, as if reading his mind, the buzzer beeped. Bill was a centreman, after his hero, and captain of the Hartford Whalers, Ron Francis. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, truth be told, Stan had no idea who that was. Sure, he’d listened to countless of Bill’s ramblings about him, but, hockey never really made sense to Stan so it all was one ear out the other as soon as Bill started to talk about it. But, if you asked him, Bill was probably better than whoever Ron Francis was, and, he probably didn’t look half as good as he did playing hockey- In Stan’s opinion. And, he wasn’t just saying that, he might’ve been misinformed, or flat out wrong considering he played in the NHL and Bill, obviously, did not. But, he wasn’t just saying that! Bill really was good, he was so in control of the puck when he got it, and it was mesmerizing to watch him skate, Stanley was in awe. His dark auburn hair was poking out of his helmet just a bit, he needed a haircut but... it looked so cute when it poked out like that. Stanley was smitten, he truly, truly was. He was elated when Bill would wave to him, and obviously, he’d wave back. He’d even blow him a kiss or two every so often when he knew Bill would see them- despite the people around him giving him weird looks, and some guy behind him calling him a pansy. His eyes were glued to the rink, though, so, he didn’t let any of that bother him. He didn’t want to miss a minute of his boyfriend doing what he loved. He even got an assist on a goal, Stanley almost jumped out of his seat with joy. He didn’t like to cause a scene, or draw too much attention to himself, he was, and always would be, a very shy person, but his few loud cheers stuck out to Bill. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, were more than enough for him. He was just so happy Stanley was proud of him, that’s all that mattered. Stanley was all that would ever matter to him. He’d look up into the crowd and see Stanley, and, he couldn’t believe the prettiest person there was there to see him! He was so lucky, his cheeks weren’t just pink from the nip of the cold ice, it was blush as well. He was so happy Stanley was always at his games. He’d be lucky if his parents went to two games a season, but, without fail, Stanley was at every game he could be at. Stanley always made him feel so special, like he was worth something. Stanley was a bit lost, he didn’t really understand everything that was happening but, he was still really enjoying himself! He kind of wanted this period to be over, though. Not because he wasn’t happy, it was just really cold. And, he was also eager to see what Bill had to show him, or, hear what Bill had to tell him. Either way, Stanley was intrigued. Soon, the first period was over, so, he got up from his seat, and made his way over to where Bill told him to meet him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley exited the rink doors in a hurry, along with many other people. Lots of people left to get snacks or to use the washroom before the next period, but, Stanley wasn’t going to do any of those things so, he and the crowd of people separated very quickly. He waited for a few minutes or so, and Bill arrived to, meeting him exactly where he said he would. “Hey, Stan, sorry I’m late, coach wanted to talk to us all about something, came as quickly as I could though,” Bill explained why he wasn’t there right, exactly on time. Stan nodded in understanding, he could tell by the way Bill was catching his breath, that he’d ran over there, so, all was forgiven. He smiled at him, indicating it was okay, and Bill felt his guilt subside. “So, why’d you wanna meet me?” Stan asked, innocently, wondering what was so pressing he needed to talk to him during a game. Bill checked that they were out of view from people for the most part, and grabbed his hand. He laced their fingers together, and Stan held onto him tightly, his small hand in Bill’s larger, slightly calloused one. They fit perfectly together, they both thought. It was like a metaphor of sorts, because they fit perfectly together in all areas of life. “I wanted to see you, princess,” Bill spoke, bending down to kiss his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley felt hot at the use of his favourite term of endearment, and, because he just kissed him in public. It was exhilaratingly freeing, but, at the same time, he was terrified someone had just seen. “Bill... not here...” He whimpered, meekly. His grip on Stan’s wrist tightened, possessively. Stan bit his lip at the feeling, looking up at Bill with wide eyes, full of want. “Well then let me find a place...” He spoke to him, his voice rough with the same want, and a need to have him, now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill pulled Stanley down that dimly lit, vacant hallway, and Stanley was eager to follow him. They reached the end of the dead end, and found a closet that conveniently, just so happened to be there. And Stanley had a funny feeling he’d planned this entire thing. But, none of that mattered. All that mattered was here, and now, and Bill’s tight grip on him, and his hands on his body. Bill jimmied the door open, and shoved them both inside of the dark, abandoned closet. Bill was eager to slam the door shut on them, leaving them in the dark broom closet alone. Though Bill hadn’t announced what he planned on doing with Stanley to him, or, at least made his plans known... Stanley had no problem reading between the lines. “Bill- what if someone-“ Stanley was about to say, but cut himself off preemptively. He could tell Bill was in no mood to hear that, and was in no mood to take his precautions and worries seriously. And, a strange part of him was glad. He kind of liked that thrill, though he’d never admit that. He liked existing on the edge, the possibility of getting caught looming over him. Bill cupped Stanley’s jaw with both hands, gingerly, but possessively. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">As always, treating him with as much care as if he was made of glass; but, still holding him in a way he’d know he was his. Stanley quickly became dizzy at his touch, forgetting all about his worries, the fear of getting caught slipping from his mind instantly. It felt too good to worry right now, he was busy now. He was busy appreciating the anticipation blooming between them. Breathing in each other’s scent, feeling the warmth of each other’s breath against the skin of their lips, breathing in each other’s air. Subtle little intimacies you didn’t appreciate often, but, were amazing to be apart of. Bill couldn’t take that anymore, as intoxicating as it was, he craved more of a buzz. He pushed their lips together, pushing Stan’s jaw up so their lips could meet. Stan felt utterly overpowered, and loved every minute of it, letting his boyfriend possess every inch of him in a moment. Surrendering to him as he loomed over him, his padding making his already broad frame that much bigger than his, feeling intimated in the best way possible. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">As their lips collided, Stan could almost taste his anticipation, feeling sweet on his lips. Bill sucked Stan’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting at it ever so slightly. Stan whimpered into his open mouth, putty in his hands now. He felt Bill start to smirk against his lips, taking the opportunity, and pushing his tongue past his parted lips. Tasting him even more now, even deeper. Stan let out a slight whine, which went directly to Bill’s groin. Bill sucked at his tongue, swirled his tongue around his, wanting to taste every inch of his mouth, for as long as he could. Their teeth clicked as Bill pushed against him harder, wanting to take every last one of his breaths away. One of Stan’s hands found its way into Bill’s hair, tangling his fingers in his soft, auburn locks. Bill’s hands fell from his chin and jaw, to his back, tracing patterns into his clothed skin aimlessly. His hands trailing down lower and lower, until they reached their destination. He cupped the flesh of his lover’s ass in his hands, a growl spilling from his mouth as Stan mewled at the possessiveness of his touch, opening his mouth even more. Bill kissed him deeper, until they both had to come up for air. Stanley ran a hand threw Bill’s sweaty, tousled hair, as Bill continued to claw at his partner’s back, his way of silently asking for more without appearing to desperate for it. And, drawing him closer. “You seem so eager,” Stanley noticed, as he pulled away from his boyfriends panting lips. “Yah, yah, but I don’t see you complaining about that,” Bill pointed out inching closer to him, desperate to close the gap Stan had created between their lips; eager to kiss him again. “What’s gotten into you anyways, one minute the 1st period is over and I see you wink at me as you’re skating off the ice, and the next I’m being pulled into a broom closet by you,” Stan examined Bill’s attire as he spoke, and laughed to himself, “You dont even have all your padding off,” He continued, running his hand teasingly down his shoulder and chest pads. His pads were black and blue, to match his team’s colours. A white ‘CCM’ logo was stitched into each shoulder pad, as good as he looked, he did look a bit silly with only parts of his gear still on. He was in such a big rush that he left his shoulder pads on, but, not in such a rush that he took his elbow gear off? It didn’t make sense to Stan, but, he didn’t think about it too much. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">A faint groan escaped Bill’s lips, he threw his head back and sighed, “Stop being such a tease, please. We don’t have a lot of time before the game starts again,” He spoke softly, his breaths slightly flustered. “How much time do we have,” Stan asked, a smirk starting to pull at his soft lips, Bill in such a flustered way amused him. It was something he didn’t often get the chance to see, usually it was Bill who got him all hot and bothered, and breathlessly impatient. “We only have 18 minutes, but do me a favour, make me cum in 16, princess,” Bill answered. He accentuated ‘princess’ filthily on his lips, saying it smooth as honey. He needed to take the upper hand back, though he was desperate to get off, he couldn’t act like that anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill pushed Stanley against the wall of the supply closet, ignoring the irony of being trapped in a closet secretly with his boyfriend, causing the cleaning supplies on the shelves behind them to tumble onto the ground, not that either of them cared. They ignored the thuds of the canisters hitting the ground and picked up from where they left off before they parted. Making up for lost time, because, they already began to miss each other; miss the feeling of being on each other. They closed their eyes and leaned forward as their lips interlocked, their lips brushing past the others as they had done so many times before. Tasting every inch of each other’s mouth, over and over again. They both knew they’d never get tired of the taste, falling deeper and deeper in love with each kiss; falling deeper and deeper in love each time their tongues touched. Bill’s hands held onto his hips, tightly, making sure he stayed exactly where he wanted him... as if he’d go anywhere else, though. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill lip’s left Stanley’s. He paused for a moment, admiring how bruised they’d already become, he let out a groan as he took in the mess he was already becoming, his hair already started to get a bit messy, too. Stanley whimpered, wanting to be kissed again. He sighed, feeling a bit dizzy. Bill kissed teasingly close to his lips, but, not quite there. He trailed his kisses down to his neck, Stanley’s little whimpers and mewls were music to his ears, and, his little words of encouragement. His kisses harshened when they reached the soft flesh of his neck, sucking at the supple skin hungrily, eager to leave his evidence behind. Stan whimpered as he felt his teeth graze against his neck, and moaned loudly when he felt them bite at his flesh, skipping his usual playful nipping, and going right for it. One of Bill’s hands ran up his body, teasingly rubbing up against his nipple through the fabric of his shirt, Stan sighed at the feeling. He undid the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his skin to him, and giving him more blank canvas to work on. Though, to say it was completely blank would be a lie, there were many fading lovebites that decorated his skin, memories of previous activities etched into his flesh. But, they were fading, and Bill wanted to make them more prominent again. He wanted to make them as dark as the colours of his jerseys, so, they’d stay on him for a very, very long time. And, would remind Stan of the first time he’d let Bill make a mess of him in an arena closet- first time, and definitely, not the only time. “Bill...” He whispered, trying to keep his voice down so no one could hear. Stan ran his shaky, needy hands up and down Bill’s torso, grasping and wanting more. His hands found the clasps of his shoulder pads, and were eager to get them off but, quickly became a bit frustrated because it was so hard to do. Bill made putting them on look so easy, but, he supposed taking them off would be the hard part.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley whined and whimpered, breathing heavily while his lover’s lips were on his neck. “How does this shit even come off?” Stan mumbled between struggled breaths, fumbling with the buttons and clasps of his equipment. It was becoming increasing difficult to speak in coherent sentences. “Figured you’d know that by now.” He retorted, lightly sucking on the skin of his lovers collar bone, kissing the marks he made. “Well, still haven’t figured it out,”. He fumbled with the clasps until he heard the click of them coming undone, and the frustrated sigh of Bill, briefly mumbling, “..took you long enough”. Stanley pulled his padding off, and let it fall to the ground below them. Bill felt a lot better now that the tight protective gear wasn’t poking at him anymore. Bill also, felt a bit bad speaking that way to Stan, but, he’d said he liked to be spoken to that way. Still, he felt a bit bad degrading him like that. Bill helped Stan take his tight, long sleeve undershirt off, he always wore something under his gear. Peter sighed as the cool air hit his bare chest. Even though Stan was the fully clothed one, he still felt that he was the powerless one between them, that it was his job to please him. He kissed his neck, starting soft but slowly becoming rough, trying to imitate what Bill did. He wasn’t used to doing this kind of thing, so, he was a bit unsure of what to do next. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“I wanna... make you feel good,” Stan spoke softly against his skin, sounding a lot more innocent then normal, on purpose. He knew Bill really liked it when he talked like that. Bill bit his lip, and let out a strained growl, “Fuck... princess.” He groaned, inviting him to continue. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan lingered in the crook of his neck, taking him all in. The smell of his skin was making him dizzy, but, the smell of what lay beneath was fucking intoxicating. The smell of his blood made him weak, and fuck, was it enticing enough to nearly give in. Denying himself made him want it even more. He kissed the soft flesh, hoping maybe, if his kiss stayed long enough, he could get to the liquid that lay beneath his lips. He bit at the flesh, his sharp fangs could pierce the skin, and he could savour the sweet liquid. Fuck, if he wanted to, he could sever his neck from his head, and all the veins in between, but, he couldn’t, he loved him way too much. He sucked a mark into his skin, bursting the blood vessels but not nothing more, never once feasting on them. And in that, he proved his tender, everlasting devotion to him. He’d read the literature on the succubi, true love’s blood tasted the sweetest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And, because he loved him, he knew he could never taste it, never indulge in the metallic pleasure. He didn’t want anything else in the entire world, he got a headache just thinking about the fact he couldn’t have it. He felt like a vampire because of how much he wanted it, but, twice as evil. He hated himself so much in that moment, he wanted to be free of his thoughts. He felt like a ticking time bomb, he wanted to separate himself from him then and there. Walk right through that door, so he couldn’t ever hurt him. But, he was too selfish to. He loved him to much to do that, if he couldn’t indulge himself in his blood or his soul, or his fear- he needed to indulge in his love, his tender kiss, his baited breath. His blood smelt amazing, but, the saltiness of his skin tasted even sweeter. “I love you,” Stanley said with urgency, no matter what happened, he wanted him to know that, to always know that. Bill smiled adoringly at him, fuck, he was so cute when he looked up at him like that. “I love you,” Bill whispered, but, he said it like it was a promise. He’d always love him, and, he wanted him to know that, and he wanted him to always know that. Though he didn’t know it, he knew his dark secrets, what lingered in his soul, and what he struggled so hard to hide. He knew it all, and didn’t care, he loved him too much to care. They promised to never judge each other, and Bill would always stay true to his word. He’d try to help him, he just, wished Stanley would have more faith in him to let him do so. He wished he’d just tell him, so he didn’t have to force it out of him. He wouldn’t force it out of him tonight but, there would come a time where he’d be left with no choice but to get him to tell him. The town couldn’t go on like this, he couldn’t go on like this, but, above all else, Stanley couldn’t go on like this. Until then, he’d let Stanley kiss him, and suck lovebites into his skin, as if he didn’t know all of the things that mouth had done.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan kissed down his lover’s body, his skinny frame misted with sweat from skating so much. Bill groaned every time his soft lips touched him. He trailed kisses down his torso, flicking at his nipple with his tongue as he did so. As he got lower and lower, Bill bit his lip harder and harder. He knew what was coming next, and, he couldn’t wait for it. Slowly, but definitely, Stan dropper to his knees, just as eager as Bill was to suck him off. With shaky hands, he unclipped the clip of his hockey pants, and undid the lace tied in a bow that held them up as well, and pulled them down his long legs. Stan pulled down his boxers, and his jockstrap, letting them both pool around his ankles. Bill sighed in relief, his aching member finally free from the tight confines of his equipment. He looked up at Bill, and admired the hunger and devotion that flooded his gaze, shivering under its intensity. Bill ran a hand through his curl hair, untangling his fingers in it as he pulled him closer to his member, but not quite as close as they’d both like him to be. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“I didn’t even have to tell you what to do... and there you are... on your knees already....” Bill mused, stroking his hair lovingly, though, his words were the farthest from it. Stanley groaned, fuck, he really was eager, wasnt he? He wanted to suck him off so badly, he didn’t know why Bill wouldn’t let him already! It was his way of teasing them both. Stan couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the fact, he wanted it just as badly as Bill did. Stanley said nothing, but hit his lip, trying to suppress another groan, or a longing whimper, he wasn’t entirely sure what sound he’d let out. “What was that, doll? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He pulled at his hair, and Stan whined at the pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of being treated in such a way. His tone was harsher, too. He very much wanted Stanley to say something, to beg for it. And, they both wanted that. Stan wanted to beg just as much as Bill wanted to hear him beg, he liked how powerless it made him feel. It felt like he had way too much power sometimes, it was nice to be manhandled, and be told to get on his knees every now and again, strangely, it was quite therapeutic. But still, Stan stayed silent, hoping his sounds spoke for him. But, delicious as they were, Bill still wanted to hear more from him. “What do you want, baby?” He asked, his tone more loving now, stoking his hair again in a more loving manner as well, no longer pulling at it from the root. He was trying to coax it out of him. Stan knew he had no choice but to speak. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“... your cock down my throat,” He admitted, shyly. Inching closer to his member, his breath dancing around it, and Bill had no choice but to groan, at that feeling, and the filth coming out of his mouth. Now, it was Bill’s then to stay silent, that wasn’t all he wanted to hear. He knew Stanley had a lot more ‘raunch’ left in him, and he knew with the right amount of teasing he’d be able to hear every word of it. Anticipation made Stan a lot more eager to get sloppier when he gave him head, plus, it was so cute seeing him get desperate like this. Watching him unravel between his legs was one of his favourite sights to see. Stan couldn’t take it anymore, he needed his cock in his mouth, now. His boyfriend’s erection was tantalizing in front of his face, and it looked like it ached to be touched. Stan ached to touch it, they were a good match. “I want to give your cock the attention it deserves, so badly. Please... let me suck you off” He pleaded, he felt so dirty like that, begging to pleasure him. He felt like such a cockslut, and, truth was, he really liked feeling that way. Bill moaned, there it was, that’s what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear him beg for it, and he got that, so, he’d give Stan what he wanted, his cock. “Of course you can, doll,” He cooed, </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan wasn’t embarrassed anymore. He wanted his cock so badly, he didn’t care anymore. He wanted to taste it, wanted to choke on it, wanted to feel Bill’s hands in his hair as he swallowed around it. He placed a few soft kisses to his tip, before engulfing as much as he could in his wet heat. Stan felt his own cock twitch painfully against his pants as he wrapped his mouth around Bill’s member. He traced his tongue along a vein as he bobbed his head up and down on it. Bill mewled, “Fuck... just like that,” he praised, and Stan felt so good because of those words, as simple as they might have been. Bill gripped onto his hair, pushing his member deeper into his mouth, and Stan moaned in delight as he felt his head rub teasingly against the back of his mouth. Stan’s hand wrapped around his member, pumping what he couldn’t fit. He timed the pace of his mouth and his hand perfectly, Bill felt as though he was in haven. Although; that was a bit of an odd feeling to get from your succubus boyfriend. But, that’s how it felt. It felt so good- for both of them. Stanley’s mouth was stretched around his length, moaning at the feeling of tears start to well up in his eyes, determined to take in more of him, though. He didn’t know what he loved more, the way his big dick stretched his mouth, or, the taste of his precum that leaked out of his dick. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Fuck, gorgeous... maybe I should’ve brought you my knee pads, huh,” He groaned, tightening his grip in Stan’s mess of curls. Stan let out a muffled moan, his words of filthy praise always got to him. Stan tried his best to maintain eye contact, as he knew Bill really like that, Bill bit his lip as he watched, drinking the whole sight in. Bill started to sway his hips in time with Stan’s head bobs and hand motions, forcing his length deeper and deeper each time, and, getting a bit faster each time. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself like this..,” Bill mused, rolling his head back, it all felt so good. His gaze immediately returned back to Stanley, “You look so god damn good like this... so, so pretty.” He said, his thumb from his other hand moving to to trace his bottom lip, gingerly; tenderly. He dipped his thumb into his mouth, stretching his mouth even more, he was mesmerized by him. His drool and spit leaked down his chin and onto his thumb, fuck, was Stan a sight to see. His thrusts were becoming more and more prominent, he held his head still as he fucked into him, over and over again. Stan twitched in his pants, it felt so, so good to be used by him in such a way. “You can never get enough of my cock... hmm? Do you like it that much?” Stan shook his head yes emphatically, whimpering around his length as Bill thrust into him, again and again. Slapping of skin on skin was driving them both insane, both of them loving every minute of this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“If someone were to walk in here, they’d see a little slut on his knees, who loves to have my cock down his throat. I bet you want someone to walk in here, just to see you like this... fuck, you’re so fucking filthy...” Bill ended his musing with a grunt, unable to say anything more, his end was coming soon, he could feel it. Stan was struggling to hold still, he trembled to be touched, and Bill’s rough hands trying to hold him still made it all the worse. He loved having his mouth fucked by him so much. He used his remaining strength to swallow around him, swirling his tongue around his length as he did so. His throat was starting to get sore. Despite them having to be quite to keep from getting caught, that didn’t stop Bill from being a bit... loud. And fuck, was Stanley turned on by the shamelessness of his lover. His moans and his groans were addicting, and he wanted to hear them over, and over again. He didn’t even need to be praised, hearing those sounds, were praise enough. He continued to bob up and down, but, his pace was quicker now, and, he tried to fit more of him deeper as well. He could sense Bill start to lose track of the pace he’d set, so, he picked up where he left off. And, fuck, did that feel so damn good. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill loved the feeling of his throat contracting and swallowing against his dick, clenching around it. Bill knew, he was done. He thrust into his mouth with a few more, uneven, hazy strokes, and came. Stan still sucked through his orgasm, making his high feel even higher. “Oh fuck, Stanley-“ He screamed, as he released all over Stanley’s mouth, he clenched at his hair as he spilled his seed. Stan was eager to swallow every last drop of it, viewing his cum as he reward for making him feel so good. He swallowed around his cock, Bill let out one last, raspy moan, trying to come back to earth as waves of pleasure washed over him, he felt incredible. He stayed just like that for awhile, hand still in Stan’s hair, and cock still in Stan’s mouth, wanting nothing to ever change. He wished times could always be so good, so euphoric. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Don’t think I forgot about you, babyboy... I’m gonna make you cum... I just want to make sure I have a lot more time to enjoy the process... and more time to see you cum. I wanna see that so bad, baby...” He suppressed a moan that came from Stan’s abused throat, with a light, chaste kiss. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill started to get dressed back up, and Stan felt a bit embarrassed because he only had a few buttons to button back up. Stanley helped Bill with the zippers of his gear. “That was so great,” Bill smiled as he put his pants back on, “Yah, it really was,” Stan agreed, and smiled sincerely at his boyfriend, “We should really do this every intermission, meet you back here next period?” Stanley asked, and Bill laughed at that idea. “Look who’s eager now....” He whispered, and Stanley shuddered as he spoke against his ear, running his tongue down the shell of his ear, taking his lobe between his teeth. “Princess... I have a game to play, and you have a game to watch... if we do this again you might have some trouble sitting on the bleachers,” He cooed, and Stan could only whine at the dirty words, reading between the lines and knowing what he meant when he said such things. “I love you, babydoll, I can’t wait for this game to end so I can hang out with you all night,” Bill promised, his voice giving away his excitement. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley beamed, and as always, Bill adored his bashfulness as he looked down at the ground, still so shy after all these years. Still so pure after all that had happened to him, but, he wouldn’t bring that up to him now. There was a time, and a place for that, but, now was neither of those things. This was going to be a fun night for the two of them, and, to Stan’s knowledge he didn’t know about any of it so, why ruin a good time. Stan was keeping a secret by not telling him he was a muderous succubus, so, he’d figured he’d forgive him by keeping the secret that he knew about it. Double jeopardy, they canceled each other out, or... something like that. “I love you too,” Stanley beamed, but, continued. He relayed his mother’s message onto him. “I have to be home by 11, my mom was very, very clear about that,” and they both laughed. “Oh, and she wanted me to wish you luck, too.” Bill smiled fondly at that, his own mom didn’t even wish him luck before he left the house that day. “Tell her, that I say thank you!” He said, kissing his lips for a quick second, wrapping up their rendezvous there, making sure to leave him wanting more. Bill and Stanley said their fond good byes, as they walked their separate ways to get back to the stands and to the locker room. And as Stan watched the players get back on the ice, he couldn’t help but notice his boyfriend, and how suggestively he looked at him as he scored a goal. Stan beamed at him, and clapped and cheered as he always did, but, he was a bit on edge now. He sat in his seat uncomfortably, he hadn’t finished yet, and, was still hard in his pants- this was going to be a long rest of the game. </span>
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  <span class="s3">And, before Stanley knew it, the game was over. It was a thrilling game from start to finish, Derry had won, in the end. They beat them 4-1, and, Stan was very proud to brag that his boyfriend’s goal had contributed to that victory. But, he was a bit glad that it was over. He was excited to see his boyfriend again, and excited to see what the night had in store for the both of them- until 11 o’clock, of course. It was turning out to be a pretty good night so far, all things considered. He’d even managed to sneak away during 2nd period intermission and kill, and dispose of his victim whole. He was killing even when he didn’t have to, eating when he wasn’t even hungry, let alone on the brink of starvation- as he once waited until. His urges were becoming overwhelmingly powerful, almost to the point that they were beyond his control. It was too hard to refuse now, the demon that lingered inside of him needed too much to be sustained. He saved all of his composure and his control, for keeping the cravings for Bill at bay. The demon inside of him was starting to see him as a next meal, an opportunity for nourishment- and the part of him that was still conscious, was using all of his control to stop that from ever happening. He needed to kill twice as much, now, just to stop himself from attacking Bill. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Not that he minded though, he’d do anything to keep Bill safe and to keep him alive, and, when he said anything- he meant it. Even risking being caught brutally killing someone and consuming their soul and their fear, just to make sure Bill would be kept safe for another night. He was exhausting all his willpower keeping his demon at bay, he felt so weak all the time because of it, he felt like he could faint at any moment. It was hard being a succubus, it really, really was. Especially when, it isn’t entirely your fault that you became one, you were only trying to settle the nerves of a friend, after all. But, Stanley tried, really, really hard to not think about the past. Here, and now was what was important. He waited out by the locker rooms for a bit, very eager to see his Bill. He saw him emerge from behind the locker room doors, looking just as eager to see him, too. He waved good bye to some his his team mates, who were all at the top of the world after their victory. Stanley loved that look of cockiness that was on his face, etched into his lips. It only came out sometimes, and tonight, was one of those times. He was proud of himself, and, Stanley just wished he could be proud of himself all the time. He wished even more he could be as proud of him as Stan was. He wished he could see all of his accomplishments and qualities through his eyes. He had so much to be proud of, and Stanley wished he could see that. Pride looked good on him, even though it was one of the seven deadly sins. But, as someone who’d committed all of them, Stanley could attest that committing them wasn’t as bad as you’d think it would be. Bill ran over to him, pulling him into his arms when they were finally alone. He wrapped his arms around his hips, and sung him around, and putting him back onto the ground, gently. “Somebody’s happy...” Stanley commented, looking up at him. Bill adjusted the strap of his gym bag, so it was a bit tighter of him. “Really happy... happy you’re here! Did you see? I got an assist, and a goal!” Bill replied, grinning ear to ear. Stan giggled, “Of course I saw, I’m so, so proud of you... you’re a regular... Wayne Gretzky, or even better- Ron Francis,” He complimented, running a hand up his arm, tracing patterns on him aimlessly, making Bill’s heart flutter. Bill’s grin turned more devious. He sighed, “You have no idea how much I wanna kiss you right now... and I’d totally do it too, if we were totally alone.” Bill mused, and Stan blushed at his words, he grew hot, he wanted to kiss him more than anything. “But don’t worry... I’ll do a lot more, once we’re totally alone...” He whispered in his ear, placing his arm around his shoulder for a moment, allowing his presence to linger on. Stan’s breath hitched, and Bill chuckled at the reaction he caused. “I’m glad I can entertain you...” Stan mumbled, looking away to calm himself down. Bill tipped his jaw up with his finger, forcing his brown eyes to meet his blue ones again. “Cmon baby... don’t get like that... you know I think you’re adorable when you get all worked up like that...” Stan smiled again, his blush only intensifying. “There’s that blush I love so much...” He continued on, his other hand pushed a strand of curly hair behind his ear, inching closer, “You drive me insane...” Bill growled into his ear, Stanley trembled under his touch. “B-Bill...” His voice quivered, betraying how much he wanted him. “Your teammates are gonna see... someone’s gonna see..” Stan whispered. He might’ve been demon, the devil himself raged inside of him, he was a master of the living, conquerer of lust- but he was still absolutely terrified of coming out. He got teased enough at school, he couldn’t handle being out to... everyone. Baring his soul to any random stranger that happened to pass by was, absolutely terrifying. “If somebody looks, all they’ll see is a boy, being kissed by a boy... who loves him more than anything.” He kissed his cheek, punctuating his sentence. Stanley grabbed at his sweater, keeping him there, balling the fabric up in his desperate fist. “I love you.” Stanley whispered, before getting on his tippy toes, closing the gap between their lips. He did what he was most afraid of, because Bill helped him not feel so scared. He was becoming less and less afraid. He kissed him, holding their lips together, they both savoured every second of it. Stanley pulled away, and Bill looked at him, nearing tears. He was so overcome with love for Stan for being able to conquer such a big fear of his. Baby steps like this were everything for the both of them. He felt so happy that he could make Stan feel safe enough to do something like that. Looks like I’m the one who’s proud... you’re incredible.” Bill spoke with absolute seriousness, meaning every word of it. Bill pulled away from him, and finally, he did something he had never done before. He offered him his hand in public, and Stanley did something he’d never done before. He took it. This felt good. Bill made him feel safe enough to do this; he wanted nothing more than to protect him, and keep him from harm. He’d always protect him, and make him feel safe, ever since that day in the sandbox- he’d promised himself that he would. Bill held his hand between his, tightly; rubbing circles in his skin with his thumb, hoping he’d know he’d always be his protector. Even demons needed someone watching out for them.</span>
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<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He continued to hold onto his hand, walking, not afraid to shoot anyone a dirty look if their stare lingered to long. Stan held onto his hand even tighter, looking up at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling. Bill smiled to match his, “I think this calls for celebration. It’s been a big night, for us both.” He spoke, and Stan’s smile turned a bit more sheepish. “Not really. I mean- I didn’t do anything, it’s your big night.” and Bill shook his head in disagreement. “Took more guts to be yourself than it took for me to pass a puck around... don’t sell yourself short, princess.” Bill reassured, and Stanley was touched by his words, and took them to heart. Though that didn’t change the way he saw himself. He still saw himself as a coward who was too afraid to be himself, and baby steps that Bill was so proud of him for taking wouldn’t change that. He wished he could grow to accept himself, as his friends had. Internalized homophobia had always plagued him. So, maybe he would find self acceptance through the acceptance of passing strangers. “I should tell you the same thing...” Stanley murmured. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill just shook his head in disagreement again. It was funny, they both wished the other saw themselves as the other did. “You want something to eat?” Bill asked, gesturing to the snack stand at the arena. And Stanley laughed as if he was joking, and Bill didn’t understand what he was getting at, he cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Arena food is disgusting...” He laughed, and Bill just scoffed. “Fuck... didn’t know my princess acted like such a princess...” and Stan pouted. “‘m not acting like a princess....” He pouted, and Bill smirked at him, and grabbed tighter at his wrist, not his hand, digging his fingers into the skin for affect. “You’re acting like a brat...” He cooed, and Stan whimpered, almost silently, but Bill could still hear it. He bit his lip at the degrading, possessiveness of his tone. “Your brat...” Stan corrected, and Bill nodded. “Mine indeed....”Leaning in, he kissed his neck for a brief second. “A slushie would be nice...” Stanley said, pouting still, bringing his subby baby talk back in full force, and Bill had no choice but to melt. “You got it... the blue raspberry one, I know that that’s your favourite...” He smiled, walking off to get it. He was right, it was his favourite. The colour reminded him of Bill’s eyes, and the taste reminded him of his sweetness. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Stan watched the beautiful scenic drive as Bill drove, the forest was stunning, and the deep blues and purples of the night sky was captivating, the cascading darkness made the twinkling stars dance in the sky. They drove down the kissing bridge, and Stan smiled as he remembered all their times together there; where they carved S+B, and all the memories they’d made there, where they’d kissed like real couples could. They drove and drove, until it was clear where Bill was taking them. It was a little spot in the woods where couples went to kiss, and other things. It was by a lake, the views were beautiful, Stanley had only heard of it, he’d never been there. None of his friends had ever been there. They usually made fun of it, saying it was an old cliched place, something only the most cliche types of straight couples went to. He never thought he’d ever get to go. But, as Bill drove closer, and it came closer into view. And, as he put the car in park, Stanley knew he’d get to know it. He looked through the stretch of trees, just beyond them, he saw the blue waters. </span>
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<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He saw the lake, it’s alluring azure was dark and inviting, and stood out against the contrast of the orange and red fauna that hid it, the colours showing it was definitely fall. Bill put his hand on Stanley’s thigh, his hand daring to trail up higher, and Stanley’s breath didn’t fail to hitch, giving away how much he enjoyed it. “Couldn’t make it any obvious what you wanted to do... even if you tried...” Stanley murmured, he turned to look at him now. “Taking me here, to a place like this...” He continued, laughing ever so slightly. “What’s there to hide? Is it a crime to want to kiss someone as pretty as you are?” Bill murmured, turning to look at him now, too. His hand brushed a strand of his hair, out of his eyes, so he could get a better look in them. “Nothings wrong.. I just.. don’t wanna be as cliche as this place is, you know?” He laughed at himself now, even though he meant what he said, his words sounded a bit silly. Sure, he did have a point, though. This was one of those banal and cliche areas known to the teenagers of the town, as being the spot to make out at, unique for its concealing tree covered landscape and access to a lake and dock. It was an odd era for softcore americana; drive ins were long dead and out of fashion, and PDA had yet to be normalized as well. This was all they had. This was the quintessential ‘lovers lane’ places you see in young adult love stories, or one of those places you hear about serial killers targeting. Bill opened his glovebox and rummaged through the contents, to find a lighter and a basically new box of cigarettes- only 3 or so were missing. He opened the green box and pulled out one of his coveted menthols, Richie didn’t care for them, he much preferred the classic ones in the red box, but that still didn’t stop him from taking his. Bill opened the window, to get the air circulating, he knew Stanley didn’t always care for the smell of smoke but would be too polite to say anything, so he wanted to be as considerate as he possibly could. He held it between his lips and lit it, with a lighter that he couldn’t recall the owner of. He and Richie swapped and stole lighters from each other so often, keeping track of that sort of thing was pointless. Bill did have one lighter separate though, that he never gave away or traded with Richie- the lighter he used to burn himself. It was important to keep them separate, and make the distinction of their uses for some reason. Bill never gave that away, he wasn’t even sure anyone knew about it quite frankly. He’d kill himself one way or another with these lighters, or in the very least, harm himself. Either by means of burning himself, or by poisoning himself from the inside out with these lighters of his; wether from he and Richie’s collection or his own private one. “Stop fucking thinking about Richie.” Bill reminded himself internally, he missed him dearly, but he tried his best not to. He took a drag of his cigarette, relaxing for as long as it would take for Stanley to come to his senses and beg for him to fuck him, as he always did. He made sure that the resulting exhale of smoke went out the window and not into the car, for Stanley’s sake. Richie was always mindful to not let his own car smell of smoke, because Eddie would probably refuse to be driven anywhere if it did, and because if his parents smelled remnants of cigarette or blunt smoke in the interior... he’d probably be grounded for the rest of his natural life. But Bill didn’t have that problem, his parents didn’t care enough about him to check, and didn’t hug him enough to even smell smoke on his clothes. He did it for Stanley’s comfort, and Stanley’s comfort only. And he was grateful for that, but, that didn’t stop him from watching as the smoke that left Bill’s lips as he exhaled faded into the night air. While he wished Bill didn’t smoke, he still got caught up in the fantasy it played into: dangerous, reckless and somewhat mature because.. only adults smoked. Which maybe was one of the reasons Richie and Bill smoked, it gave the illusion that they had everything figured out, it gave them something else to be able to control when they think the world is slipping through their fingers. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill smirked, Stan making him wait for him was making him want him even more. He’d be willing to do this dance, as long as it took though; if Stanley wanted to be fickle, he’d let him... he just might have to take it out on him once he finally came to his senses, as he always did. “Cliche? What do you mean by that, baby?” His hands found their way back to his curly hair, moving to tease the skin of his cheeks, stroking softly. The slight touches and the way ‘baby’ sounded all too sinful, although said with feigned innocence and genuine curiosity. Bill knew exactly how to call Stanley’s bluff- and they both knew it. “You know... this place has a bit of a.. reputation... you know what people.. do here... what straight people... do...” And Bill laughed out loud. “Well, we aren’t straight so... we can never do what they do.” and Stan nodded, “I guess..” He said, he was stalling now, wanting him to be buzzing with anticipation, wanting him to want him so bad he’d pounce on him. He saw the way he was looking at him, nearly fighting himself off of him, he liked to edge Bill on like that. </span>
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  <span class="s3">“Well, if it makes you feel better... we don’t have to do what they usually do...” Bill proposed, and Stanley nodded in agreement. Bill flicked the ash off of his cigarette, and Stanley watched as it fell off and faded to nothing as well, only to promptly be put between his lips yet again. Something about this oddly excited him, the more he watched Bill toy with his cigarette the more he thought of what it would feel like to be burned by it. He liked it when Bill hurt him, he liked that pain. Thinking about it made heat unexpectedly pool in his stomach, and his groin. Bill had such a way over him, he could turn him on without even trying. Stanley wondered if Bill was aware of his affect over him. “What do you wanna do...” Bill continued, and Stanley thought for a moment, letting anticipation start to consume him, watching it eat away at him. “We can.. talk..?” Stanley said, but it sounded much more like a question. He knew talking didn’t really occur where they were. Bill let a laugh pass through his lips, he knew the game he was playing, so, he played along. “What do you wanna talk about..” He wondered, knowing neither of them wanted to just talk, Stanley was just trying to get him on the edge of his seat. And, it was working. “Life? Plans?” He put forth, and Bill felt nothing but mirth, condescending mirth, of course. He shook his head no, ever so slightly. He’d play his game, but, that didn’t mean he’d play fair. “No... let’s talk about you...” He murmured, inching closer to his lips. Stanley didn’t know what to say, nor what he meant by that. He stayed silent, hoping Bill would take that as a queue to explain what he meant by that. Bill spoke again, he understood his assignment. “Me.. you... everything I want to do with you... to you..” His voice was soft as velvet, words pouring from his lips like honey. “Tell me” Stan blurted out, his voice still in a hushed whisper. Bill brought a finger to his waiting lips, shushing him. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill smirked, “Where do I even begin..” Stanley got goosebumps at his tone, his heart beating to the melody of his words. Thumping against his chest: and moments like these were when Stanley was most glad Bill wasn’t a demon too. If he had demonically superior enhanced hearing, he’d be able to hear his heart beat, and he’d be able to smell the lust emanating from him- it would give away how much he wanted him. Though, his quivering voice and trembling form didn’t help keep it under wraps; let alone, his goosebumps. “Somewhere... begin... somewhere....” Stanley was near breathless now, words were getting harder and harder now, he was practically begging for his dirty talk. Bill smirked at his eagerness, and thought for a second, thinking of how best to speak what was on his mind. Words weren’t any easier for him, either. “Well, Id like to first; kiss you... if that’s alright with you, of course. But since you’re so fickle... I dunno if it is. And, maybe, take you to the back... if you’ll let me. And then, give you something special... I still do owe you one... I haven’t forgotten....” He spoke, his hand trailed up higher, resting on his hardening member. Stan’s breath hitched, and the temperature of his cheeks began to rise, he felt hotter than ever. Bill’s grip on him grew tighter “And maybe, if you’ll let me... you’ll let me fuck you? I’ll fuck you just the way you like to be fucked. So hard, you’ll be begging for me to let you cum. If you want... because, I definitely want...” Bill took another drag from his cigarette, as if punctuating his sentence with that action. Stanley’s eyes radiated what he truly wanted, he was becoming more and more desperate for him; toying with him wasn’t fun anymore. Bill felt a smirk tug even more at his lips, a smirk that made Stanley tremble. He was proud of himself illicit such a reaction out of Stanley; someone like Stanley. It was a boost of confidence to be able to make a succubus beg for it, verbally and nonverbally. And, the way Stan was looking at him right now spoke much louder than me. Stan bit at his lip, and inched closer to Bill, faces so close their noses were almost touching, he could smell the smoke on his breath. Stan whispered against his lip, the hot breath tickled Bill, “Don’t just tell me... show me..” He whispered, though, it sounded more like a beg than anything else, “Please....” He added, conceding. Bill’s exhale of laughter danced across Stanley’s face, Bill’s eyes became half lidded. The way he said ‘please’ in such a needy tone, made shivers run down Bill’s spine. “Thought you wanted to talk?” Stanley’s eyes fluttered shut, and closed the gap between them even more so, but, not entirely. He bit at Bill’s lip, one last plea. “Just kiss me...” He murmured. And, how could Bill say no to that?</span>
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  <span class="s3">“What do I do with this, though? It’d be a shame to waste it...” Bill asked, kidding of course. His voice was low and gruff, and it made chills go down Stanley’s spine, the roles were reversed. Bill was making him wait now, he was teasing him. Stanley looked away for a bit, shy. He was nervous as he spoke, still nervous something could be ‘too far’ or ‘too taboo’; nervous as to what Bill’s reponse could possibly be. “P-Put it out on me,” Stanley replied, voice trembling, showing how apprehensive he was. Apprension because of Bill’s possible judgement, not as a sign of unwillingness. He wanted it more than anything, he liked it when Bill made him hurt. He liked it when Bill bit his neck hard enough to make him whine, he liked it when Bill sucked his neck hard enough to draw blood, he liked it when Bill didn’t use enough lube and it burned a bit. He loved having a harder time walking after sex after numerous beggings or ‘Harder, harder, harder!!’ the night before- and the ensuing explanations he’d have to come up with when someone asked him about a semi noticeable limp. Stanley loved bruises and he loved marks, and he sort of loved explaining them away too. And as much as Bill loved leaving them, and all of the aforementioned things as well, he was always afraid of being too rough. Stanley would always assure him that, there was no such thing as being ‘too rough’ and that he wasn’t breakable, Bill still did worry. There was a time and place for being treated delicately, Stanley thought- and Bill happened to think that it was all the time. </span>
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  <span class="s3">“What?” Bill asked, no judgement, no malice or ill intent behind his questioning, he just wanted to have Stanley say it again. And, also wanted Stanley to have the opportunity to rethink his decision, and maybe take back what he said. Stanley spoke louder this time, and met his eyes pleadingly, he extended his arm and rolled up his sleeve with a shaky hand, “P-Put it out on my arm,” he replied, again. His voice was soft and pleading, which turned Bill on so quickly it almost surprised him. “Fuck... you’re so hot,” Bill murmured, almost in slight awe. The request was right out of left field, he’d never expected him to ask something like that. Now he knew why Stanley always stared at him so much when he smoked, he wondered how long he’d wanted this. “Why were you so nervous to ask?” Bill questioned softly, a bit saddened that Stanley seemed like he was a bit nervous, he’d hate to think that Stanley would think his love for him was something that could ever be stopped or in the very least, withheld. “Didn’t want you to think I was weird...” Stanley answered, looking away again. Bill’s free hand cupped the underside of his jaw, his hand touching his neck as well, forcing him to look at him. His soft voice was a sharp contrast to his domineering actions, Stanley loved it. He loved how he could always find the perfect combination- Bill was just... so perfect. </span>
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<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“God, you’re so cute... but you should know better by now.” and Stanley smiled, and blushed a bit as well, he knew Bill was right. “Are you sure?” Bill asked, again. He knew Stanley liked pain but, he still was apprehensive if it ever meant the potential of a crossed line- so naturally, he always asked Stanley if he was sure more than once; repeatedly. Even if nine times out of ten, it was Stanley who brought it up in the first place. Stanley nodded emphatically, “Please...” He assured, rolling up more of his sleeve, which nearly took Bill’s breath away. Stanley’s eagerness never failed to make lust course throughout Bill’s entire body. “Fuck...” Was all Bill said, words failing him, and his brain failing him as well- he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He took one last puff from his cigarette, and turned his head to aim his breath out the window. He breathed on the end of the cigarette as well, to make sure it wouldn’t be terribly, scorching hot. </span>
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  <span class="s3">Bill grabbed his wrist to hold his arm in place, and Stanley let out a faint mewl at that alone, he loved it when Bill grabbed his wrist. It was a subtle act that was so possessive and commanding, he loved it especially when he grabbed his wrists and held them above his head, but, he still liked this a lot too. Stanley couldn’twait as the end neared his skin. He involuntarily flinched as it burned him, he winced, and let out a whimper, that quickly turned into a moan. His mouth fell open as he groaned, it was a strange sensation and he didn’t know why he liked it as much as he did. Bill brought his inner arm to lips and kissed the red burn mark in the shape of a small circle, and kissed from the mark to his wrist, and then down his palm. And shortly after his fingers as well, kissing Stanley felt lighter and lighter with every kiss, he was so lightheaded and wanted him terribly. His teeth grazed his finger tips, taking them into his mouth between his lips for a few seconds, sucking on them lightly. Stanley whimpered, this teasing was quickly becoming too much- he knew he’d start audibly begging soon if he didn’t receive direct stimulation soon. </span>
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  <span class="s3">“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” Bill said, breath ghosting against his fingers. And that was the last thing uttered between them before Stanley and Bill’s lips crashed into each other’s; drunk on anticipation and dizzy with desire. Stanley savoured the taste of his lips, he tasted as he always did when he smoked- but it wasn’t as strong since he hadn’t been smoking for very long. He tasted ashy, and that gave him an air of danger that was intoxicating. Almost as intoxicating of the smell of cigarettes that filled the air and overwhelmed his senses in the best way. Bill’s hand never left Stanley’s leg. With feverish hands, Stanley unclipped his seatbelt, and once he was free, scrambled to crawl into Bill’s lap. He wrapped both arms around his neck, holding onto him with everything he had, running both hands through his messy hair. Bill appreciated being held like that, being touched like that. It felt nice to be cared for in that way, treated in that way- as if he could slip through his fingers at any moment and that he didn’t want to lose him. </span>
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<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill kissed him with intensity, wanting him just as badly as he wanted him; their lips never parting from each other. This was here, this was now, and this was passionate. Bill’s other hand fumbled with Stanley’s belt, struggling to unclasp the buckle. Once he did, he yanked it out of all of the loops of his jeans in one pull, and threw it to the back seat of his car. He undid the button of his jeans with the same shaky hand, and then down went his zipper. He pulled his jeans down hungrily, desperately, and pulled his briefs down with them as well. Stanley bit into his lover’s lip at the feeling of the cold night air on his cock, so relieved to finally be getting some attention for the first time that night. Bill pulled away from his kiss for just a moment, both of their breaths were struggled, and they panted for dear life. They were both left so, so breathless. “Already so hard,” Bill teased, “Lemme take care of you, babydoll,” He continued, though, stopping there. He had said all he needed to stay, and, he couldn’t hold back from Stanley anymore. His lips were already so swollen, so reddened and starting to be bruised; how could Bill stay away. He kissed him again, forcefully pushing his tongue through Stanley’s parted lips as he moaned, savouring the sweet taste of his lover once again. </span>
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<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Fuck, did he taste sweet, he tasted like the sweet blue slushie he’d had earlier, mixed with a taste that was all Stanley’s own. And Bill wanted to taste him everywhere, and, planned to. Stanley fully accepted his tongue into his mouth, welcoming it, in fact. He moaned into his lover’s mouth as Bill started to stroke him off, starting at a slow, steady pace. He was teasing him, and Stanley thought that that was only fair. Fuck, he wanted so much more, though. He whined, and gripped at Bill’s hair tighter, pulling it at the root, pleading for more. Bill could only let out a low, throaty snicker at his eagerness, which was as always, a bit of a confidence boost. But, he got the message. Chills went up his spine when Bill’s hand further wrapped around his member, still teasing the hot flesh there, but, at a quicker pace. Stanley made his appreciation known, he let out a few panted moans, getting lost in muffle that their kiss created. Stanley savoured every single moment their lips connected like this, the way Bill’s tongue explored every inch of his mouth with as much intensity as if it was their first time, the way he tasted, the way their kisses always sounded so fucking obscene. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley couldn’t get enough, and, he knew he might never get enough. Bill was addictive, his touch like cocaine, and his mouth like heroin. Stanley couldn’t even think of what his hand would be, but fuck, did it feel nice. Bill deepened the kiss, his hand moving from his thigh to his waist, holding him closer to him. He felt the body heat emenating from both of them, it quickly grew as hot as a sauna in the front seat of his car. His fingers tightened as Stan started to bite at his lip again, the pleasure nearing to be too much. But, Bill always wanted to push Stanley to his limits when it came to things like that. His hand felt unbelievably good, his hands were always so good. Though Stanley couldn’t see what he was doing, it was still so tantalizing, the feeling was tantalizing. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, his thoughts were consumed with pleasure. Soon, his breath and his heartbeat was timed to the rhythm of Bill’s hand on his cock. Stroking up and down his hard length, thumb rubbing the head of his cock every now and then, collecting the precum on the pad of his thumb. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill felt his own pants getting a bit tight at the mere act of touching his boyfriend like this, and the delicious sounds he was making were doing him no favours. His member pushed against the fabric of his own pants, aching to be touched. Bill knew without a doubt, Stanley could feel how hard he was right now. He was right, Stan could feel it. He moaned as he felt him twitch under his straddling. Stan couldn’t help but unconsciously salivate, remembering what he’d done earlier that evening. Sucking him off, in public, when anyone could’ve walked in. He missed the feeling of choking on his cock, being used in such a way, in such a place. Stan missed it, he missed him. He wanted that so badly, he whimpered at the thought. His member twitched in Bill’s hand. A combination of the thoughts replaying in his mind, and his lover’s skilled hand on his sensitive cock, he knew his end was so near. Pleasure pooled in his stomach, but, he didn’t want this to ever end. He wanted to feel this good, with Bill, forever. But, good things couldn’t always stay as they were forever. And, upon thinking that, he hoped that that wasn’t a tragic metaphor for his relationship; a sinister foreshadowing of things to come. He really, really hoped it wouldn’t be. Bill was getting lost in the feeling of their tongues touching, their lips brushing, and their scents combining; and the feeling of his lover’s hands in his hair; and the sinful noises coming from Stanley in the process- his pace was getting sloppier. Stanley pulled away, panting as he was trying to catch his breath. Delirious from pleasure and oxygen deprivation as he whispered against his lover’s lips, that were desperate to be reunited with his again. “I-I’m gonna cum-“ He moaned, “Do it, honey, I wanna see your beautiful face when you do...” He replied, kissing down his jaw, and bringing some old lovebites back to life in the process. He sucked some colour into his boyfriend’s olive skin, kissing each mark he made. “I wanna feel you suck the cum off my fingers too... cmon baby, cum for me...” And Stan could only whine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill always knew the right things to say, and just how to say them. A combination of his words, and his lips and teasing tongue on his collarbone, Stan came all over his boyfriends hand, as he continued to stroke him through his orgasm. His mouth hung open, and his eyes squeezed shut as he panted and rasped out Bill’s name a dozen times as he released, and Bill couldn’t get over how deliciously sinful his name sounded. Though he was a demon, he repeated his name over and over again as if it was a prayer, or something sacred. He whispered comforting words of praises as Stanley moaned a bit, as he tried to regain his rational thought and speech ability as he came down from his high. “You’re so gorgeous when you cum...” Bill whispered, licking a long line up his neck, deciding the best place to latch his teeth, and make his claim. Stan whimpered out a barely comprehensible thank you. “I’m gonna make you cum so many times tonight baby... fuck, you’re so pretty.” Bill praised into his his ear, speaking so softly, so lovingly; calming him down a bit, so he could steady himself and get his breath back. Stanley could listen to him forever. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill held his cum covered fingers in front of Stan’s lips, and, as always, Stan took them between them immediately. His spent cock stirred a bit as he wrapped his lips around them. He rolled his tongue between the gaps of his fingers, making sure to clean every inch of them. Bill’s eyes became increasingly halflidded, long eyelashes covering the blue pools like venetian blinds. His tongue felt like a dream against his flesh, and he grew harder at the act of Stanley enjoying his town taste that much. “Fuck, baby, just like that...” He praised, and Stanley mewled at the tender words. He ran his tongue over his calloused pads of his lover’s fingers, worshiping every inch of the skin. He hummed at the taste of himself, nearing dizzy territory once more.Bill pulled them from his lips, a clear trail of saliva connected them still. It severed, and Bill couldn’t help but bite his lip at the strange eroticism of it. He pressed a quick kiss to Stan’s lips, just because he could. Stan smiled at the tenderness of it, pulling away from it, savouring it though it was short. Bill grinned bashfully, “You taste like blue raspberry,” He giggled, and Stanley fell a bit deeper in love at the sound of his giggle. He was just, so, so cute sometimes- aka, all the time. “Your tongue’s still blue too,” He mused against his lips, kissing him again. This kiss lasted longer, but, it never got deep, or heavy, or passionate, it stayed simple- but said all it needed to. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">They wanted each other, and they both were painfully aware of it. Bill inched closer to his ear, whispering into softly, while running his tongue over the shell of it, “What do you want me to do...” He asked, a simple question in theory, but, it set a fire of anticipation in his stomach, and the flames ran through his body. Stan didn’t know what to say, thoughts ran through his mind rapidly, there was so much he wanted. “I could... suck you off?” He suggested, sucking into the soft skin behind his ear, and Stan shivered underneath him. “I could... finger fuck you?” He suggested, and started to run a hand over his clothed chest. “I could... eat you out... you make the prettiest sounds when I do that...” He suggested, and that was the one Stanley seemed to like best. He nodded embarrassingly enthusiastically, and he felt Bill smirk against the abused skin of his neck. “Okay, gorgeous... that sounds like the one... go to the back and get ready for me, yah?” He asked, and Stan nodded once more. He got off of his lap, and kicked off the pants that pooled around his ankles. Frantically, he took off his mostly unbuttoned shirt. He lay there, completely naked, and ready for him on his hands and knees. Bill followed him closely behind, admiring his eagerness. He got on the seat, and kneeled next to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan groaned at his presence alone, rubbing his already hardening cock on the seats, desperate for the friction it gave him. Bill took note of this, and held his hips tightly and possessively with his hands, so he couldn’t move them anymore. Stan whined, but, didn’t protest. Bill looked at his plump ass, admiring him for a moment. Stan was so beautiful in his eyes, every part of him was so pretty. He’d stay there admiring, forever if he could. He ran his hands over the skin, and Stan’s breath noticeably hitched, mewling at the slightest feeling. Bill squeezed it, kneading both cheeks, and Stan relaxed into his touch. He arched his back in jjst the right way, begging for him to just tongue fuck him already. Bill bit his lip, and couldn’t help but let a moan escape; seeing Stanley all spread out like that, all spread out for him. He was spread out like a bought, just for him; and fuck, did he want a taste.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He kissed his hole, softly, and even softer, he whispered, “So beautiful...” he kissed him there again, “So perfect...” Stan muttered out a thank you, but, could speak nothing more. His mind was a hazy fog, he could summon no other words. And, he couldn’t help but think of how false his words were. No one as curupt as he was could be perfect, no one as evil as he could could ever be perfect. But, Bill did know all of that, but, still meant it just the same. He nibbled ever so slightly at the flesh of his ass, but, those gentle nibbles turned into bites. He left countless bites, some of them harder so they’d linger longer than others. Bill marvelled at the beautiful marks he’s created, he trailed his tongue over each of them, and pressed kisses against them, softly. Stan writhed underneath him, desperate for more. Bill remembered the last time he’d done this, eaten him out in the backseat of his car. He was determined to make this time even better than the last. He had an idea come to him, quickly, he bent his head down to look in the space between the front and back seats. He found what he was looking for, and smirked deviously though Stan couldn’t see. He got the leather belt, and teased the soft skin of his ass with the cool, black leather. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stan squirmed, and arched his back further into his touch. He groaned, “Please... hit me with that,” He begged. “P-please,” Bill was a bit hesitant, since he never wanted to hurt him in a million years but- what was he supposed to do if... he liked being hurt. Stan got hard at the thought of the sting of the leather hitting his skin, and the mix of pain and pleasure that would linger on his reddened skin- delirium was an absolute understatement, he wanted to feel that so badly. He slid the belt over his soft skin once more, calming him, before snapping it against his skin. Stan groaned, it felt better than he could’ve ever imagined it feeling. It stung, and the pain lingered beneath the surface. “Ahh... again!” He pleaded, that couldnt just be a one time thing, it felt too good to be a one time thing. And so, Bill did it again, “Ohh... fuck.. Bill!” He groaned, though, muffled by the seat he now buried his face in. Bill swatted at his ass again, </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Loud for me. I want to hear you.” He demanded, his voice cold, colder than the metal hardware on the belt. He couldn’t believe his words as they left his mouth, speaking in such a way to him was foreign to him, it was as if he was speaking in another language. He sort of liked it though, a chill of a unique feeling of power coursed through his veins as he listened to himself. Stan whimpered, already addicted to the degrading kills of his smooth voice. He wriggled his hips, nonverbally asking him to spank him again, craving feeling that main again. He indulged him, the snapping of the belt against his reddening skin filling the air of the car. “Bill,” He screamed, his voice as sinful as ever, and he moaned in only pleasure now. Bill groaned, he’d never get tired of hearing his name spoken like that. “Again, please, say my name like that again...” Now it was his turn to beg, he couldn’t help himself, he had to restore the power dynamic just that one time for that one request. Stanley indulged him, moaning his name the exact same way, as Bill took a pause, kissing each spot he’d struck with the leather, trailing each red mark over once or twice with his tongue. The sound of Stanley saying his name like that was the equivalent to heroin, and fuck, Bill wanted to shoot up over and over again. The same way that heroin would course through his veins upon injection, lust now coursed through his veins. Stanley was a euphoria like no other. Bill’s tone was as loving as it was rough, he sneered, “Who’s the only person who can make you feel this good...”, as another smack came to Stan’s ass, “Bill!” He groaned, he screamed out of pleasure and to answer his question. “Who’s name is the only thing on your lips when you cum...” Stan was impossibly hard now, and screamed louder than he had before, and whimpered in delight as he felt the slap of the belt against his abused skin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Bill!- Oh, god...” He whimpered, Bill teased his entrance with the head of his hard cock, prodding at it ever so slightly, but never diving inside. Stan grinded against it, desperate for something more. Bill gripped his hips harsher, keeping him in place. Stan whimpered, and trembled a bit under his grasp. He wanted him so badly it was starting to hurt, his cock leaked with an embarrassing amount of precum- and he’d barely been touched. “Who makes you such a fucking desperate cockslut, princess?” He asked, excentuating his words, his degradation preceded by Stan’s most favourite pet name. And his words were thusly followed by the last spanking, “Bill,” He whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes now, he was so painfully hard, he wanted him inside him- any part of him would be great. He kissed the last bruise on his supple skin, he whispered fondly. His words, and actions were a sharp change, they reflected his true nature. “Who loves you, more than anyone else in the world?” The phrase has 2 meanings; he loved him more than he loved anyone else, and, he loved him more than anyone else did; and fuck... did he mean every word of what he said. Stan smiled, though Bill couldn’t see it. And blushed wildly, which Bill couldn’t see as well. “Bill,” He mewled his name, still trying to catch his breath, it was raspy, and high pitched; though you could tell one thing... he was very happy. “You’re incredible darling... you took that so well. Always so good for me... lemme make you feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He took the belt, and tied his two wrists together, something Stan was all too eager about. He loved the possessiveness that it represented. All he had to do, was try to move his hands, or, take one look down, and he’d be reminded yet again that he wasn’t in charge here- Bill was. Stan lay in the same position, ass up, face down; and still just as desperate. Bill was true to his word, though, he immediately made him feel good. Stan knew he wouldn’t last long, he was already so close. So painfully close, and all he had done was gotten spanked. Bill licked at his entrance, and finally, tongue finally prodding him open. Stanley sighed, he trembled as Bill held onto his thighs, pulling them apart. His tongue pushed past the ring of his entrance, thrusting in and out of him; all while he massaged his balls, rubbing small circles behind them. Stanley cried out, and pushed up into Bill’s face, needing for him to go deeper. With his hole slick with spit, he thrust a finger into him along with his tongue; their paces keeping up with each other. Stan was sobbing like a mess now, his mouth fell open and stayed that way, musing moans and curses as Bill worked his asshole. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">The filthy sounds he was making were driving him insane. His pants pooled around his knees, and he was starting to get hard as well. He spit into his asshole, and thrust another finger into him; Stan bit at his lip, loving the feeling of being stretched so fully. Bill finally touched Stan’s leaking cock, desperately twitching between his legs. The faster Bill stroked him, the closer he got to his end. He knew his end was near; he whimpered as Bill ran his thumb over his sensitive head. “Oh Bill... I’m gonna...” He nearly screamed, his raspy voice made words harder and harder to say; Bill grew addicted to the sounds of his voice. “Cum then, doll...” He cooed, thrusting his tongue into him one last time. Stanley clenched around his fingers as he came, and Bill stroked him through his orgasm. He screamed Bill’s name over and over again; whimpering breathlessly between each shout. He squirmed as he came, and collapsed, his knees bucking as they couldn’t hold him up anymore. He came on Bill’s hand, and his own stomach. Bill smiled fondly at the mess he became, and ran a hand soothingly down his back, calming him as he came down from his crash of euphoria. Bill peppered kisses on the blotchy red skin of his ass, speaking words of praises against his skin. Stanley got goosebumps, he whimpered, and Bill’s name was still the only tangible thing on his lips. Stanley was so sensitive, and so spent. But still, he wanted him inside him so badly, he didn’t know if he could do that all over again. But, he almost didn’t have a choice- he needed to satisfy his own inner craving. Bill trailed kisses up his spine, and into the crook of his neck; tracing patterns into his hot skin with his tongue. “You did so amazing princess, you’re so fucking good...” He praised again and again, he wanted to call him every nice thing under the sun; he loved him so, so much. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Fuck me... please...” He begged, breath getting caught in his throat at the feeling of Bill’s breath going over his shoulders. Bill sunk his teeth into the new territory, peppering his shoulders with blooms of purple and red. He smirked against a mark he’d just ran his tongue across, “Didn’t I just fuck you?” Laughing a bit as he teased him. Stanley whined, he needed him so badly, he couldn’t go along with whatever game he was playing for long. He’d say whatever he needed to, beg just the right way; if it meant Bill would finally fuck him. “No, I mean.. with your cock...” He whispered, feeling a bit embarrassed for saying something like that out loud; but, at this point, he didn’t care how he sounded. “... I need to feel you... inside of me..” He accentuated the word need as he spoke, and the needy way he spoke made Bill’s cock twitch. “Fuck...” Was all he could say in reply, how could he possibly turn that down. He grabbed his hips, and Stanley moaned in delight, finally getting what he wanted. He turned him over, and kissed all over his neck, “I need to see your face... need to see that pretty face when you cum...” He growled, and Stanley was left quivering in his grasp. He was left so helpless, so at the mercy of his touch. His hand rest against his stomach, still bound together tightly, the metal of the belt pinched against his skin in the best way. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill admired his shaking form, and as endearing as that was, Stanley just really wanted to be fucked. Bill ran fingers up and down his torso, aimlessly. He swirled his finger in the mess of cum that was still on his stomach, he dragged it up his stomach- smearing it along his skin. He sucked that finger into his mouth, Stanley watched him while he did that, biting his lip hard enough he was scared he’d draw blood. “T-tease,” He murmured, though it was as high pitched as a whine, his cock twitched as he watch him. Bill laughed, and supposed he might be right. Bill unbuttoned his flannel, and threw it with the rest of Stanley’s clothes. He was completely bare now, too. He rolled one of Stan’s harden nipples between his fingers, toying with him even more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Arousal pooled in both of their stomachs, and Stanley wanted him inside of him more than ever. Bill worked two fingers into his asshole again, making sure he was still prepared and worked open. He took a nipple into his mouth, rolling it against his tongue now. He kissed down his torso, tailing his tongue down his body and savouring the tang of sweat that met his tongue. He licked up the remnants of cum, and Stanley watched him, amazed. Amazed someone could turn him on this much, amazed he could be this turned on.He trailed back up his body, and licked at his other nipple. He left the skin of his chest red, and abused. He slipped in a third finger, Stan clenched around it, and fucked himself into them, over and over again. He needed more than what Bill was prepared to give him. Bill was so turned on by his enthusiasm. He rubbed his middle finger against his prostate, resulting in moan after moan falling from Stanley’s panting lips. Drool fell from the corners of his mouth from being open for so long, he really, really couldn’t take this anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Finally, Bill gave him what he wanted- his member. He pulled his fingers out of him one my one, and gripped his hips tightly, holding him in place. He aligned his member with his waiting hole, and Stanley’s eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. He was spent, and exhausted- he didn’t know how long he was going to last; and yet, he was still so desperate for him. He groaned as he felt the head of his cock breach his enterance, he felt tears well up in his eyes again, he squeezed them shut as he mewled his name, it felt so unbelievably good. “Shit,” Bill cursed, digging his fingers into the skin of his hips as he felt Stanley clench around him, “So fucking tight... so fucking good,” He continued, thrusting into him harder. Stanley swallowed him up so greedily, wanting every inch of him inside him. His thrusts were deep, and slow, both of them were so tired, but fuck, they needed this. They needed each other desperately. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Bill!” He yelled, hit after hit against his prostate was taking its toll on him. Bill’s lips crashed against him, their kiss was just as sloppy as his thrusts were becoming, uneven and passionate. Bill’s hand have Stanley’s cock a few strokes, timing them with his thrusts in and out of him. His other hand moving to his throat, gripping it tightly as he fucked him. Stanley moaned loudly as breathing became a bit harder, he loved the feeling. He was so close, and this overstimming wasn’t helping him at all. He sobbed against Bill’s lips, he was so, so close. He arched himself up against the leather seat, fucking himself onto Bill’s cock- getting him deeper and deeper inside of him. “Bill- I’m so close...” He pulled away from his lips, whispering to him needily, he needed him. “Please... ah! Can’t- oh gosh...” He couldn’t speak anymore, pleasure had consumed him. Bill continued gripping his throat as he thrust harder inside him, praising him as he did so.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Bill!” Stanley yelled through moans, working up the courage to ask him what he wanted to, what he was a bit nervous to. The abrupt sound caught Bill’s attention, and looked at him intently as he waited for Stanley to say whatever he needed to. “S-spit... spit in my mouth,” Stanley asked, shyly. Bill couldn’t believe someone could look so adorable while saying something so filthy. His eyes were wide as he waited anxiously. The words came right out of left field, and hit him like a sucker punch. “Huh?” Bill asked, dazed, but not mad. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Stanley was forced to repeat himself, “Spit in my mouth... please,...” speaking much softer this time, as if in a way to not hear himself say it. It was embarrassing asking for things like that, even if he knew better than to be embarrassed. Bill smirked, “Fuck, you’re hot-“ and Stanley was so happy and relieved he reacted that way. Bill opened his mouth and let his spit fall onto his tongue. Stanley swallowed it all, happily, moaning as he did so. Bill stroked him, quicker now, his thumb pressing against the understand of his cock, “Cmon darling... cmon, almost there,” He cooed against his neck, sloppily moving down to kiss his tender skin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley gasped, shaking as he finally came, his orgasm was explosive- pleasure radiated through his entire body. He groaned, over and over again, as Bill fucked him through his orgasm. His cum spilled all over his hands, and his fingers. Bill held his fingers in front of his open mouth, and Stanley took them, moaning around them as he cleaned them off. Spit, and bits of cum trickled down his mouth as he couldn’t contain his groans, and his yellings of Bill’s name, spilling from his lips like an overflowing liquid. Bill was gone, the feeling of his lips on his fingers and him clenching around his cock, he came; he came hard inside of him. His cum filled his ass, Stanley curled his toes at the feeling- it felt so, so good. He whispered a moan, all he had left to muster. Bill pulled his fingers from his parted lips, and slowly pulled out of him as well. He held Stanley close to him, praising him, kissing every inch of his face, saying that he loved him as many times as he could between moans. This was Stanley’s favourite part of it. “Je t'aime mon petit canari...” He whispered, Stanley felt a tired smile tug at his exhausted lips. He liked those little nicknames Bill gave him in french, but that one made him a bit sad now. He didn’t feel like a canary these days. Bill was the canary between the two of them, and Stan was tragically a coal mine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">They stayed like that for a while, holding each other close, talking with each other, laughing with each other. Just enjoying each other in the most intimate way possible. Bill looked out the window, while Stanley lay against his chest, and his fingers were running through his curly hair. He couldn’t help but notice the view of the dock that led to the lake that poked through the trees. And, he couldn’t also help but notice that they were the only ones there, they were totally alone. An idea came to mind. It had been awhile since he’d gone swimming, and, he’d gotten pretty used to the cold- so, why the hell not? He gently got Stanley off of his lap, and he sat back up. Stanley looked at him with a bit of confusion, and if he was honest, a tiny bit of hurt. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">It wasn’t often Bill didn’t want to cuddle with him after sex, in fact, he’d never done that before. Bill put his pants back on, and opened the door of his car, and jumped out. He ran down the dirt parking lot, and down the dock. He kick his pants off and let them fall on the old and worn mahogany wood of the dock. He jumped into the ice cold water head first, it was a bit exhilarating. It was chilling, in a good way. He came up from the water, and pushed his wet bangs out of his eyes. He looked happy, and as Stanley watched him from the car, he was happy to. It made sense to him now, why he’d gotten him off of his lap. He grabbed Bill’s discarded flannel, and buttoned up a few of the buttons. It hung down to around his knees, and the arms were way too long for him. He ran out of the door after him. He ran down the dock, and cringed a bit as the cold chilled him, as he was mostly naked apart from the thin plaid fabric. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley crouched down to talk to him. He couldn’t help but smile as Bill swam over to the dock to talk to him. He rested his arms on the damp wood, holding himself up to look at him. “Hi,” Bill said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, looking at him just as lovingly as he had before. Beads of water clung to his eyelashes, and droplets dropped down from his hair onto his forehead and shoulders. He looked breath taking like that. The blue of the water had nothing on the blue of his eyes. Stan giggled, “What are you doing?” He asked, he couldn’t believe he was actually swimming in such a month, on such a cold day. The wind wafted some of the cool breeze from the waters edge up to him, he shivered at the feeling- he couldn’t imagine being immersed in that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Well, you said I was sweaty, so, I guessed I’d go for a swim,” He replied, diving back under water, but immediately bobbing back to the top. He was trying to show him that it really wasn’t that cold. Stan blushed a bit, “That was before... now... it’s.. the good kind of sweat-“ Bill smirked at what he was implying, he could sort of read between the lines. Sweat from sex was a lot better than sweat from playing hockey. Stanley looked away for a bit, distracting himself in the mesmerizing blue abyss of water, and how it seemed to be bottomless. He flicked a pebble that rested on the edge of the dock, and watched as it fell in, and couldn’t take his eyes off of the ripples it made. He watched it until he couldn’t see it anymore, and he decided that was the closest he’d want to be to getting in that water. He couldn’t help but relate that to his own life, as strange as it was to do. His actions were creating ripple affects, and, maybe- he too had thrown himself into a dark abyss, and he’d never be able to be himself again. Maybe he’d never be able to see himself normally again. A laugh crept from his voice, distracting himself from those thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Plus, its... autumn. In fucking Maine.” He laughed, pausing for dramatic affect to emphasize his point. Bill couldn’t help but agree, but, still stayed in anyways. To humour him, he changed from his crouching position. He now sat normally, spreading his legs ever so slightly, and letting the bottom of his feet graze against the water. He cringed at the icy chill. “See, fucking cold.” He laughed, though, his teeth chattered a bit- but Bill was convinced he was exaggerating, again, for dramatic affect. Bill stood in the gap between his legs, and Stanley quite enjoyed having Bill look up to him for a change. Throughout the entire history of their friendship and subsequent relationship, he’d never been taller than him. He liked this illusion of height difference, though as spurious as it was. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">This didn’t do anything to change Bill’s aurora of confidence, he still smirked tauntingly at him, as though he still towered over him. He was never confident with anyone else, except Stanley. “Why are you acting so scared, baby? You worried you won’t be able to touch the bottom?” He cooed, though his faux sweetness was laced with insincerity. His tone was as taunting as his facial expression, and Stanley cursed himself for almost liking being spoken to that way. “‘M not scared... and ‘m not that short...” He pouted, arms crossing over his chest now, he may have sounded childish, his eyebrows furrowed in adult annoyance. Bill laughed, “Well, then, what’s the problem?” He asked, and Stan was quick to reply, “Lobsters” and Bill couldn’t believe he was serious. He laughed again, though, obviously at his statements, not with his statements. His laugh was almost a sarcastic scoff. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Really? You’re scared of lobsters?” He cocked his brows in disbelief, and his tone radiated that same emotion. He double checked just to make sure he was serious. “Well, we live in Maine...” Stanley tried to reason, though, that just made Bill scoff again, he couldn’t be serious. Did turning into a demon completely make him devoid of common sense? Usually Stanley would never believe such nonsense. “Don’t believe whoever told you that- It was probably Eddie, right? He told you something about that? Eddie’s scared of everything... so.. don’t-“ Stanley rolled his eyes; and he cut him off. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I’m obviously kidding! It’s because it’s fucking autumn. Way too fucking cold.” He replied, and Bill smiled at him. He was glad to hear that he was kidding, and to hear the staple Stanley sarcasm return in full force, even at his own expense. He closed the gap between them, swimming closer to his skin. He kissed the goosebump covered skin of his thighs, his cold cheeks touching his inner thigh. Stanley squirmed against his touch, not out of discomfort, or because it was unwanted, but because it was so damn cold. He almost wanted to tell him to get back in the car if he wanted to do that- because, now was not the place- nor the season. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“You’re so pretty like this...” He whispered, peppering his inner thigh with kisses. Stanley shivered at the words, and the cold. “You look so fucking good in my clothes... fuck...” his kisses getting closer and closer to his member. Stanley looked up at him with frantic anticipation, though it was a bit jaded, his face had an unpleasant icy feeling against his bare, sensitive skin. But, he wanted him way too much to care. Though Stanley was in no water, he was practically swimming in Bill’s flannel, and Bill loved looking at him in his clothes. He always loved their size difference, and nothing proved that difference more than how much he drowned in his clothes. He was so petite and slender, and the plaid fabric meant for his broad frame only accentuated that. Bill groaned, he wanted him so badly. He took his head into his mouth, and savoured in the precum that had already started to accumulate there.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley whimpered, and relished in this much welcomed feeling. The warm was of his mouth was a much, much better feeling compared to the harsh frost of his cheeks. Quickly, he took Stanley’s member into his mouth, being egged on my his little whimpers. He teased his own gag reflex, forcing himself to take more of him in. They maintained eye contact, and Bill’s gaze only intensified as he swirled his tongue around his length. Mirroring his obscene actions with possessive eye contact, in case Stanley was ever remiss of who was calling the shots here. Stanley moaned, and ran his hands through Bill’s messy, wet, auburn hair, digging his nails into his cool scalp, it felt so good, he needed something to hold on to. And, he was sure he’d probably get a splinter if he grasped onto the wood of the dock that was already starting to fall apart. The dilapidated wood would not be his best bet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill moaned around his lover’s length at the sweet feeling of pain, running his tongue through the sensitive slit of his head, enjoying all of his lovers sinful squeals of delight. He wrapped his thighs around the sides of his head to bring him closer, making him take more of his length in. The cold temperature did sting a bit at first, his sensitive inner thighs were a bit more used to the cold than other parts of his body. Bill smirked, and got his message loud and clear. He pulled more of his length between his lips, worshiping every inch of it with his mouth, leaving Stanley to have nothing to say but his name, and a few whimpers and groans if those counted as words. He teased his member with his throat, swallowing around it. His hand came from the water, and started to pump what he couldn’t fit into his mouth. Stanley squealed at the feeling of cold, and out of reflex, squirmed a bit away from him. He was very sensitive to such things, and, due to his new demonic possession, needed things to be hot now more than ever. Though it was unspoken between them, Bill was privy to that, and understood that. He looked at him, confused as to why he suddenly squirmed away, though the pieces were starting to fall into place now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“T-too cold...” Stanley explained, though, inched back towards him; expecting things to go back to how they just were, as long as things were understood that he couldn’t touch him until he warmed up a bit. Though, things could never be that easy with Bill. He smirked, “Too cold, huh?” He asked him again, though it sounded as if he was just asking him to clarify- it really was him asking if he was sure about that answer. Stanley nodded, biting his lip now, his cock still hard and needed attention... just, not in the form of a hand until Bill dried off. Bill laughed, and knew Stan would come to regret doubling down on that answer. He grabbed his hips, “Bill?” He asked, though it quickly turned into a shout, as Bill pulled him into the water, holding him tightly. He went underwater, and because he still was tightly grasping at Stanley, he had to go underwater too. Stanley’s body tensed up at the chilling temperature, and under the stress of a sudden change of environment, held onto Bill for dear life. He wrapped his legs tightly around his waist, and his arms tightly around his neck, and, that grip didn’t lessen when Bill pulled them both up for air. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Stanley was, noticeably a bit grumpy. Not only was he still hard and desperate for a release, but, he also hated how his hair looked when it got wet. Not to mention, the wet fabric of his shirt clung to him in all the worse ways, he was feeling uncomfortable and weighed down by it. Bill noticed his pout, and kissed his cheeks, hoping to see if a bit of affection would cheer him up. “Baby... what’s the matter,” He cooed, peppering kisses against his neck, and was trying to determine how real his pout was, if it was genuine at all. Stan was trying very hard not to like them, he was trying to be annoyed! But, he could never stay annoyed with Bill for too long. “My hair looks like a wet dog when it gets wet”, He pouted, though, laughed at his own folly when he heard the words leave his mouth. He did have to admit, as real as the emotion was for him, he couldn’t help but feel.. a bit silly for saying that out loud. His curly hair flopped down, and clung to his face. Bill moved his bangs out of his eyes, and tucked them behind his ear with his thumb. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“I don’t think you look like a wet dog...” He whispered against his neck, still kissing him silly. “You look like... a mermaid,” Bill complimented, trying to make him feel a bit better. He thought his curly hair was beyond cute all the time, he couldn’t see why Stan would ever compare himself to that, or insult himself in such a way. Someone as great as he was shouldn’t have insecurities, and didn’t deserve insecurities, Bill thought. He thought he was so perfect, the living, breathing, walking definition of the word perfect- and all that came with that word; he should be immune from insecurities. “Nice try,” Stan thought, but didn’t have the heart to say. As many times as Bill could compliment him, he couldn’t always take all of his kind words to heart. Stan laughed, for two reasons. Both because of the ridiculousness of his words, and, because his breath was starting to tickle his neck. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“...and you’re dumb” He giggled. He couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve all these compliments, he didn’t deserve someone as sweet as Bill. He knew he didn’t deserve Bill. There was something deeply tragic about the two of them, they both felt they didn’t deserve each other. Bill continued to kiss his neck, though not yet biting into it, or sucking at the flesh there. He just peppered kisses on the skin, that were as tender as his love for him. “Not dumb, just in love with you...” He placed his last kiss against his skin, a parting one- though, their time apart would not be long. Bill smiled, though, not because he was laughing with Stanley, but because he was so happy. Loving Stanley made him so happy, he couldn’t help but smile every time he thought of it; he couldn’t help but smile every time he said the words. Bill’s lips moved increasingly close to Stan’s, kissing his way up from his neck to his chin. Such an action made words hard for Stan, but not impossible. “In love with me? Wow, even dumber than I thought” He joked, though, he meant it. Obviously Bill wasn’t dumb by any means, he meant that in a ‘loving me was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made’ kind of way. And Bill knew what he meant by his comment, so, he didn’t take offence to it. He just hated that Stanley thought of it like that, and, he was determined to change his mind. “Don’t talk like that..” He whispered seductively, though meaning every word of it. He moved to speak against his lips now, not his skin. And, to get him to not talk like that, he shut him up for the time being so he couldn’t speak anymore. He pushed their lips together, making speech impossible, and, pointless. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">They kissed each other for what would be the last time that night, and they both knew that. And they made the most of it, as it would be their last forever. Their breaths baited, and wearing thin. They wanted to kiss each other until they lost their breaths entirely. They grew breathless, indulging themselves with each other for the final time that night. Their teeth clicked together and lips became more bruised as their kiss intensified. Stanley clung onto him with all his had, shivering a bit as he was still getting used to the frigid temperature of the water. Bill held him steady, making sure he’d know he wouldn’t let go. Stanley tried to subtly grind against his torso as Bill held him, though, there wasn’t anything subtle about how hard his cock was, he needed to cum, and he was so close to it. He’d chase his end until his lungs gave out, trying to keep him distracted while he kissed him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">And for a bit, he didn’t. Lust filled his veins as the water kept him cool; he was just as distracted as Stanley wanted him to be. Until- he wasn’t. Bill pulled away, while Stanley tried to hold back gasps and moans from being heard. He was so close to coming undone he could almost taste it, the friction was delicious against his cock. Bill still kept close to him, coming alive in the heat he still had, Stanley was still as warm as a furnace, though his slender frame was still trembling. Bill held his hips specifically, keeping him still so he couldn’t grind against him anymore. His hips were steady, and Stanley whined, knowing Bill had caught on. He smirked against his lips, his hot air in the form of exhales, ghosted against both of their faces. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“Yah, grind against me you little slut, I’m not gonna touch you...” He whispered, kissing him again before he even had time to react. He processed his words, and moaned at their filthy degradation he loved so much. Slowly, finger by finger, Bill released his hold on his lips, moving up to gingerly hold his waist. He was keeping him up, but not restricting his movement. And Stanley did just that, he found his pace he had momentarily lost, chasing his release. He wrapped his shivering hands around Bill’s cock, that had since gotten hard as well. He stroked him in time with the movements of his hips. It felt like heaven for both of them, Bill couldn’t help but groan at how filthy this senecio was. Stanley panted as he lost his strength and his breath, he was growing weaker now. He knew his body would’ve given out a long time ago, if it not been for Bill holding him up. He felt safe in his arms, and though he was shivering and as cold as ice, he felt warm there too. Euphoria washed over him just like the waves surrounding him. He moaned into his open mouth, screaming his name. And, as muffled as it was, Bill heard every time he said it. Neither of them lasted very long, and, they both came undone at the same time. The waves washed the remnants of their endeavours off of their bodies, and their hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">After they’d both came, Bill still held onto Stanley’s quivering body, knowing he’d need support. Stanley’s head rested against his chest as he was nestled into his strong arms, feeling completely safe and protected. No harm could ever bestow him as long as he was there, and, he could never do any harm to others as long as he was there. This was his safe haven, Bill was his safe haven. The relaxed, steady beat of his heart calmed him down, and his eyes grew heavier as he let the beat of it lull him. He was tired, and this was the perfect end to a perfect day. He knew he’d fall asleep the moment Bill helped him into his clothes and sat him in the car. He might even have to do his seatbelt up for him, that’s how tired he felt at that moment. And, maybe it was also because he was a slut for being taken care of. He might’ve been a bloodthirsty succubus, but, he was still a bloodthirsty succubus with needs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill looked at him start to fall asleep in his arms, and he knew that there was nowhere he’d rather be, nothing he’d rather see. And, definetly nothing he’d rather be doing that holding him. He was overcome with so many emotions, hitting him all at once. Immense love for Stanley, a fear of losing Stanley, a deep feeling of self resentment because he felt he didn’t deserve someone like Stanley, a new found fear because he didn’t know quite what Stanley was capable of, a willingness to clean up all of Stanley’s messes because he loved him so much, and a replay over and over of Richie telling him such strong love for him was wrong; and a need to stop thinking about everything, but, still, a willingness to think about everything. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">He needed a way to quiet the seemingly never ending constant stream of thoughts going through his head. He said the next thing that came to him, somehow voicing all of his emotions, and silencing them all at once when he asked, “Will you marry me?” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Sure, he’d thought about it, daydreamed about it more times than he could count. But, he wasn’t sure what prompted him to say that, today of all days, tonight of all nights. Stanley looked up at him, his eyes fluttering open, and as Bill looked in them, he tried to search for an emotion to get a reading on him. He didn’t know why he asked such a question, but, he did know he wanted a good response. He didn’t just want one, he needed one. And as he searched those familiar caramel eyes for an answer, he couldn’t help fall in love with them all over again, a million times over. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">Bill was, if anything, and, above all else, mawkish. Especially when it came to his dear Stanley. The constant fear of losing him that was only heightened by the recent news of his condition made him dizzy. Not knowing how much longer he had with Stanley absolutely terrified him, and, maybe this was his way of trying to never have to let go. “Tonight?” Stanley asked, and Bill was glad he didn’t get a no, but, a bit sad he didn’t get an immediate yes either. Stan was a bit confused, and knew that impulsivity and recklessness were things Bill was a lot, through no fault of his own. He was like that because of his personality disorder. He wanted to say yes immediately, but, he didn’t want to feed into his impulsivity. He wanted to give him some time to explain, and, maybe talk himself out of it if he wasn’t completely serious and set on this idea. He found that this was a good strategy to get Bill out of doing something impulsive and possibly regrettable, without Stanley having to hurt his feelings in the process. Bill looked down at the boy in his arms, and shook his head, and laughed. “Of course not tonight... i mean, like, one day” He explained. And Stan was a bit reassured by that, this wasn’t as random and impulsive as he originally thought. He had put, some thought and logic behind this, which, was a good sign. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“It’s not legal here, Bill.” He reasoned, very sad to say that. That was his only objection, and he hated that something as stupid as that could ever stand in their way. “I’m fine living in sin, and against the word of god- but, I’m not sure I’m too fine with breaking the law” He continued in a joking sort of way, and Bill laughed at his tone and at what he said. He ignored the ominous ness of that sentence, but, ignored it, he didn’t know he knew about just how much sin he was living in. Bill was determined to change his tone, and his thoughts on the whole thing. It broke his heart to see him so sad, and sound so defeated. “It’s not legal here... yet! And, besides, it’s legal in two countries! Denmark last year, and... Norway! Norway just made it legal this year!” He replied, desperately trying to make him happy. Stan smiled sheepishly, recognizing his effort, and, happy he cared so much for him to make that effort. Stanley cocked his brow in faux confusion, </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s3">“...so... you’re asking me on a trip to Norway?” still joking to keep the mood light, to distract from the fact that, while, yes. It was legal in both Denmark and Norway, and they accepted them, but, there were still 159 countries in the world (as of 1990) that did not. And, Stanley had a hell of a time accepting himself if, most of the courts of the world didn’t. But, he tried his hardest not to think such a way in such a tender moment. Bill thought for a moment, and his subtle smile to make Stan smile in return, turned into a full grin. “Yah, something like that” and his grin was infectious, soon, Stanley’s tired lips formed one as well. “Well, Bill, I would be happy to.” He whispered, too tired to speak any louder than that. As quiet as his voice was, complete sincerity was evident in it. “Stanley Uris, will you make me the happiest man alive, and go to Norway with me... sometime after high school?” He asked, and he stuck out his pinky, to make a promise. “Yes, yes I will” Stanley smiled, intertwining his pinky with his, making that promise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <em>
    <span class="s4">From the way Stan would always ramble on and on to everyone he knew about Bill, and to the jar of sea glass Bill had collected for Stan and given to him when he went to Seattle with his family one summer, and the hours Bill would spend on his birthday cards; there was always something inherently tender about their relationship. Their dynamic was always profound and special, even from a young age. And the first time Stan had ever taken him birdwatching had been symbolic of that, in a way they couldn’t see at the time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s4">“<em>Cmon, Bill!! If we hurry we might get to see black-throated blue warblers, they’re always out at this time of day!! Cmon!!” Stan beamed, he grabbed his best friend Bill by the wrist and pulled him excitedly through the forested area of the barrens. Things were the same as they’d always been, madly in love- though at this time, neither of them knew it, and Stanley was still taller than Bill was. Bill wasn’t particularly interested in birdwatching, but he really liked to hang around with Stan. Especially hanging around with Stan alone. And, it made him really happy that Stan was so excited to show him his favourite spot to watch birds. It was also really exciting to get alone time with Stan. </em></span></p>
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<p class="p3"><em>
He liked hanging around their new friends Richie and Eddie, and he liked hanging around them all together, but it always felt so great to hang out with just him. Being with Stanley made him happy, and it was a happiness he wanted to feel all the time. Bill lost his breath when Stanley grabbed him by the wrist, he’d never, ever felt that happy before. He never wanted him to let go. He loved it when Stanley touched him, in any kind of way, but especially like that. Stan was swatting some of the brush out of their way with his free hand, still leading the way for him and Bill. “They’re really pretty, and they’re really blue. Kinda like the colour of your eyes, Bill!” He spoke as walked, smiling from ear to ear. “R-Really?” Bill asked, it felt weird to talk about stuff like that, but he liked it. He never noticed the colour of Eddie or Richie’s eyes, but he definitely noticed Stanley’s eye colour.</em> <em>He wondered if Stanley noticed Richie and Eddie‘s eye colour. He hoped he didn’t, he really wanted to be special to him in that way. “Yah, but, your eyes are a prettier kind of blue. The prettiest blue I’ve ever seen..” He giggled, thinking about what he said as he said it. He wondered if it was normal to say stuff like that to your friends. But, Bill was his best friend, so maybe it was. He didn’t concern himself too much with it, though. It was the truth, so why wouldn’t he say it? Bill didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. He’d never been told anything like that before, but, he’d never met anyone like Stanley before so he didn’t feel weird about it. He felt great, come to think about it. It felt really good to be complimented, especially from Stanley. He didn’t know why, but, it was always really important to him</em> <em>to be liked by Stanley. He wanted to be Stanley’s favourite more than anything. And it was even more important to him that Stanley liked him as much as he liked him. </em></p>
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<p class="p3"><em>
But, that was probably normal, considering Stanley was his best friend and all. “Th-Thanks,” Bill finally replied, giggling too. But, the cheerful lighthearted atmosphere between quic</em>kly <em>disappeared. Stanley got a thorn in his finger from a bush he tried to walk through. Stanley suddenly howled in pain, startling Bill a bit. His outburst was immediately followed by erupting in tears. Stanley was a very emotional child, and was a bit sensitive too. This hadn’t been the first time Bill had seen him cry, but that didn’t mean seeing it had gotten any easier. He hated seeing Stanley upset, and he always went to great lengths to avoid anything that could ever make Stanley upset- wether it was in his control or not. He’d make it in his control, it was always his first priority to make sure Stanley was okay. He didn’t really know why he felt this urge to protect him, he just assumed because he was Georgie’s big brother, this instincts kicked in for Stanley. But, he didn’t feel that way about his friends- he didn’t even feel that way about Georgie. Sometimes he’d make fun of him, and sometimes he’d get into fights with his brother. But he never did anything like that with Stanley. He didn’t really understand</em> <em>what he felt about Stanley, or why he did the things he did for Stanley. He felt pain in that moment, even though it was Stanley who got hurt. He felt defeated that he couldn’t make everything okay for him, but he couldn’t understand that emotion at the time. He still felt it very strongly though, even though he couldn’t decode it all the way. </em></p>
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<p class="p3"><em>
Stanley</em> <em>immediately let go of Bill’s hand, and used it to inspect his hurt one. He was too scared to take out the thorn, he just looked at it, trembling. “Damn! Ass!” He tried to swear like a grown up, but it wasn’t impressive, or in anger- he was scared, he was hurt. Bill grew more and more hurt with every tremor of his voice. Instinctively, not really knowing what else to do, he grabbed Stanley’s hand. Stanley looked at him, tears still coming from his eyes, helplessly asking him to do something. Bill pulled out the thorn, and it fall at their feet. He pulled his hand into his sweater, and balled up the end of his sleeve around his fingers and wiped away the blood from his wound. But, it still continued to bleed. Stanley was overwhelmed by the sight of his own blood, and continued to cry. Bill quickly grew overwhelmed, and started to panic a bit- he hated seeing Stanley in such distress. He</em> <em>leaned forward, the hand holding Stanley’s starting to shake, and put his mouth on his cut. Stanley watched quietly, he felt better now, his sobs turned to quiet sniffles. Bill pulled away, and was happy to see that Stan had stopped crying, tears were fading, and didn’t look as fresh. “All better,” Bill said, though he spoke it as though it was a question. Stanley smiled a bit, and nodded. </em></p>
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“We should get a bandaid for it though, after this.” He wanted to put that off, he didn’t want this to ever end, he didn’t want to ever be apart from Stanley. Stanley nodded again, “We’re brothers now, you know,” He smiled, though his words were completely serious. He’d never felt closer to anyone else, than</em> <em>how close he was to Bill. It was Bill’s turn to nod now, but, he didn’t really agree. He didn’t want to be Stanley’s brother, it felt weird and he didn’t know why. Georgie was his brother, and he viewed Richie and Eddie as brotherly, but... he didn’t view Stanley that way. Which, was weird to him, considering he was closer to Stanley than he was to any of them, and he liked Stanley a lot more than he liked any of them. He couldn’t explain his feelings, or why he was feeling them, but, it felt weird to call him brother. He could tell that Stanley’s hand still hurt, even while he wasn’t bleeding anymore and the thorn was no longer piercing his skin. He could tell by his mannerisms that he was still a bit uncomfortable, and he really hoped that that wouldn’t make him want to go home. </em></p>
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“You aren’t going to leave, right?” He asked, nervously. He was looking directly to</em> <em>him with big, pleading eyes now. Stan shook his head, ‘no’, immediately, and with absolute surety. Such a level of surety, that Bill felt a little bit foolish for even considering that the answer could’ve been different. He was happy he reacted so strongly, though. Stanley grabbed his wrist again as if to pull him, instinctively, though they stayed where they were. It was a way to comfort him, hoping it would work. “Why would I ever wanna do that?” He answered, speaking seriously in the way Stanley often did, but, a sincere smile was tugging at his lips. Stanley didn’t leave him that day, and he never did. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>as always! comments r always appreciated, leave one if u enjoy! kudos are also very appreciated, and i WILL kiss u if u bookmark this story &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. ch. 7 𖤐 time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>story is almost over and i don’t know what to do w myself lmao i’m attached to the idea of having something to work on! anyways! ilysm, and i hope you enjoy! muah x a million &lt;3</p>
<p>i feel like my stories all read as terrible wattpad books; so i do appreciate you sticking around this far! in my mind, i’m barely literate- let me know if i’m on the nose or off base with that. two more chapters to come!</p>
<p>and fyi: a daddy kink is introduced in this chapter (more on this further down in the other notes) so if that makes you uncomfortable skip past that! or just imagine stanley says something else :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❝𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞<br/>
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧<br/>
𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮<br/>
𝐜𝐫𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞❞</p>
<p>𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟓𝟖</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Bill exclaimed, still buried deep inside Stanley, who still lay beneath him, trembling as he recovered from an orgasm. He still lay panting and moaning as his chest rose and fell heavily, trying to catch his breath with no avail. Bill didn’t want to pull out, he wanted to savour this moment forever. He wanted to savour how amazing Stanley sounded, how beautiful he looked- so pretty and so at peace. He wanted to savour how amazing he felt, he was so tight and so warm, cum dripping onto his thigh as it left his entrance. “You feel like heaven,” Bill murmured, attaching his lips to the crook of his neck, tracing across his jugular, peppering kisses wherever his soft lips lingered. Bill stood by his phrasing, he knew the truth but didn’t care; Stanley being a succubus didn’t change the way he felt about him at all. Stanley was mindful of his phrasing, and the word heaven sobered him up like nothing else. Bill felt him tense up underneath his touch, and put two and two together. He was in a tough place; he wanted to give Stanley the opportunity to tell him, since he had had that chance taken away from him by Eddie and Richie; who Bill still was not on speaking terms with. But, he also wanted to set the record straight, well, as straight as he could set any record in this situation, and tell him he knew, to ease his mind. Because he knew Stanley better than anyone, so he knew Stanley was worried sick about telling him. Which, he was, to say he was worried sick would be an understatement, to say the very least. Stanley went cold with worry, he knew this had to be the night he told him, he couldn’t keep on feeling guilty. Suddenly he felt dirty, and he felt sick, and he knew he couldn’t do this anymore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t fair to either of them; and it especially wasn’t fair to Bill. Stanley still blushed at the compliment, and a few soft sighs may have passed through his parted lips, but still, he didn’t know Bill knew his secret; so he thought Bill would never say anything like that if he knew. The thought of telling Bill his terrible truth incited terrible visions to play like a highlight reel of tragedy- Stanley couldn’t only hope that these fears weren’t prophetic. The longer he thought about telling him, the more he could envision his world crashing down around him. His friends abandoning him and worst of all; Bill leaving him. And, maybe, just for good measure: he wasn’t as careful at his crime scenes as he thought he was, a hair was left behind or a finger print lay preserved in blood. And then he’d be a criminal, all alone in jail, with no one. He hated that, he hated the thought of that more than anything- but, he hated the thought of keeping something from Bill even more. He’d tell him, he’d make himself tell Bill, no matter how much he didn’t want to, no matter how much he dreaded it with every fibre of his being. He’d tell him. But, he’d let himself enjoy this for a few more moments. He could relish in the calm before the storm for a few more minutes, because what was the harm in that? A secret could stay a secret for a little while longer; he’d allow himself to lose himself in this. There was something so wretched and precious about this; he felt guilt and he felt love. They were intertwined like vines. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so he did, he lay there after Bill finally pulled out of him, still straddling though. Bill basked in his beauty, how beautifully his brown curls framed his face as he lay beneath him; and Stanley basked in Bill’s praises and the felling of his kisses on his abused skin. Stanley felt his teeth nibble ever so slightly a bit too high up for comfort. “Not so high up!!” He giggled, pushing his face away but obviously all in jest, he didn’t want him to go away at all, and Bill could tell so he didn’t. “I only have so many turtlenecks, and my parents almost saw them a couple days ago...” and Bill laughed, though he was sure that must have been terrifying, it was a bit funny looking back on that. That had only happened to him once, his parents didn’t pay much attention to him as it was, let alone enough attention to notice hickeys on his neck. He’d lied to his parents and told them he was seeing a girl from school; and oddly enough, they were pleased when given that information. Bill could recall clear as day, as if it was yesterday in fact, his father saying something to the effect of: “Oh, thank god you’re seeing a girl. You’ve been spending all that time with that Jew, we had begun to worry you were gay. Thank heavens you aren’t.” He hadn’t said it like he was grateful he seemingly wasn’t, he phrased it as though being gay or any variation of same sex attracted wasn’t even an option in the first place. It stuck with Bill even after many months had past. Bill cringed at the thought of it, and tried to get it out of his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Awww, c’mon, they’re just so fun to leave on you...” Bill laughed, trailing off to kiss his neck again, and Stanley giggled as his hot breath danced against his exposed skin. “And you look so pretty decorated in them...” Bill spoke again, though this time his voice was laced with seduction, and Stanley was no longer giggling. He moaned in response to Bill’s tongue dragging across the fresh marks, soothing the bitten skin. Bill peppered the skin of his neck with kisses, his face staying in the crook of his neck. “I love you so much.” Stanley quickly said, speaking so quickly the words almost got jumbled up. It was barely cohesive, but still understandable. The way he spoke kind of caught Bill off guard, “Is he going to tell me tonight?” Bill thought to himself, and only himself. He’d wait for Stanley to tell him before he brought it up, he thought he owed him that. If he can’t control his actions, Bill thought he at least deserved to control when he told people about them. Plus, you couldn’t pay him to start that conversation up- he was relying on Stanley to do it more than anything else. Plus, what if, by some chance or some miricale- they were wrong. And Stanley was in no way responsible for anything, everything was just a weird coincidence, and he’d just started a new skin care routine or something. And what kind of boyfriend would Bill be if he falsely accused Stanley of murder- a pretty shitty one. Bill didn’t know if he hoped that that was the case; because both options were pretty shitty. Either he had a murderer in his bed, or a murderer was on the loose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, either way: though his morals were telling him different, he could excuse the crime if the culprit was his Stanley. And someone so heavenly couldn’t possibly be possessed from something from hell- right? Stanley could literally commit murder right in front of Bill’s eyes and he’d probably still have his doubts, shit, he’d probably even help him clean it up. Stanley had Bill wrapped around every single one of his fingers, not that he even realized, and not that Bill particularly minded or cared. “I love you too,” Bill said, without even thinking; but it was not a programmed or automated response, he truly did mean it with everything in him. He said it in a reassuring tone, trying to coax the truth out of Stanley in a subtle way so he wouldn’t realize. It was a conversation he didn’t want to have, but, he knew he needed to have it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I really, really love you,” Stanley said again, with even more surety, needing Bill to always know that, and always believe it. And it broke Bill’s heart that he felt like he needed to reassure him so many times, that he didn’t think his love was so unconditional. It almost made him think he had failed as a boyfriend; because when he said he loved Stanley, he meant it. Under any set of circumstances, and under any situation. “I know you do,” Bill replied, and Stanley could feel him smile against his neck. Honestly, Stanley needed to hear that more than hearing an ‘I love you’ back, that response reassured him more than anything else. And, they stayed like that for awhile, Bill kissing him silly, enough to bring the playful energy back bwteeen them. Things didn’t feel so serious anymore. Stanley could laugh, and Bill could make him laugh. They could kiss until they absolutely needed to come up for air, and Bill could leave lovebites way too high up on Stanley’s throat. Bill could call him pretty and call him baby, while Stanley tried not to get hard. Things could be easy, Stanley knew things weren’t always going to be this easy, but they could be easy for now. Bill’s words sobered him up, but his kisses made him drunk, and dizzy with desire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can I kiss you baby?” He asked, and Stanley nodded emphatically, desperately, unmistakably, yes. Bill had remembered the first time he ever asked Stanley that, it was much more awkward and much more stuttered. It was a lot more endearing and innocent the first ever time; this one was said with a seduction only gained after a lot of adult experiences. Stanley still melted every time. Stanley could feel euphoria call his name as soon as Bill bit his bottom lip into his mouth, and as he traced over every inch of his mouth with his tongue, as if trying to memorize it. This was it, this was what heaven felt like. Bliss could bloom in moments like these that were only for them to remember. His garden of Eden consisted only of Bill and his gentle touches and passionate kisses. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley knew it had to be done, and wether it be his remnants of his conscious telling him so, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins forcing him to go through with it. Or maybe it was his tired state of delirium telling him that maybe this could possibly be a good idea, though he was sure there was no such universe where this could work out. Even so, whatever the reason or maybe a combination of all three, he interrupted their kiss. Stanley felt himself slowly start to decay in his own doubt; should he or shouldn’t he? He felt so small and so stupid; was he making the right choice, did he fully think of every possible course of action and every resulting action? The thought alone made his head hurt, he wasn’t sure if his heart would beat right out of his chest or fully stop right then and there. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick or be unable to do anything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I... I have to tell you something,” Stanley finally said, trying to catch his breath. His face was flush with embarrassment and also carnal remnants frozen in time on the apples of his cheeks. Bill almost didn’t hear a word he said; he was so focused on his pretty Stanley looked. He was a wreck in the best way possible, his hair was so messy, his lips were slick with spit, and the corners of his mouth and his chin shined with saliva as well; Bill couldn’t tell who’s it was, which made the moment so much hotter. But, Bill did hear him, and he had a funny feeling he knew what that ‘something’ just so happened to be. But still, he’d feign innocence and pretend to be none the wiser. He smiled sincerely and warmly at him, hoping to preserve a lightheartedness in the space surrounding them. He knew Stanley would only confess if the aura wasn’t stiff, and he didn’t feel interrogated. He needed to feel safe; he never felt safer with anyone like he felt safe with Bill, but still, this was fucking scary. Rather than responding, Bill placed a chaste kiss to Stanley’s lips, trying to tell him it was all okay. And, maybe if Stanley was paying attention, he could tell that he was trying to say, ‘I already know’ and maybe Stanley could’ve deciphered that, if he wasn’t so silently terrified. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All Stanley could think was if that would be the last kiss they’d ever share together. He honestly wouldn’t blame Bill if after he told him, he left his room, drove home and never said another word to him ever again. And would leave Stanley to sleep in his cold empty house all alone; he thought Bill would be well within his rights to do so. Stanley was a good actor, but he wasn’t fooling Bill, not anymore at least. He could tell he was scared. Bill flipped them over, so Stanley was on top now, straddling his hips. In all honestly, Stanley did not think he had the strength to stay like this; the emotional strength or physical strength. He’d just been fucked into the mattress, and Stanley and Bill were home alone so there were no holds barred. He wanted to go to sleep if he was being completely honest. But, this forced him to stay awake and say what he needed to say; Stanley didn’t know where to begin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill looked up at him, though ‘adored’ would be a more accurate description. He could see just how marked up Stanley was from this angle, the scratches on his sides and the blooming bruises on his hips, and his hickeys on his inner thighs. He could see the fading marks as well, from past encounters together. Fuck, was he a sight. He laid and waited for Stanley to say whatever he needed to say, and to be honest, he could take all the time he needed. Bill was in no rush to have that conversation, and he was in no rush to stop admiring the work of art on display in front of him. Shakespeare once said, violent delights have violent ends; and fuck, Stanley sure was a delight. So much so, Bill would have no qualms with him being his end. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill looked around Stanley’s room, just being in here, like this was enough to drive him wild. It wasn’t often they could share his bed together. His parents played a much more active role in his life than Bill’s parents ever did, which didn’t leave them with much alone time whenever Bill was at his house; long enough to do everything they’d like, anyways. Just being in here made him love him more, to the alphabetized bookshelves, to how everything was immaculately clean; he loved everything about him. And those light grey walls; he’d remembered how excited Stanley was when his parents had painted it for him; that was around 4th grade or so. It was such an odd choice for a 4th grade, Stanley had always been so... Stanley. Just thinking about that could make Bill’s heart explode. He especially loved how Stanley had all of the love notes and poetry he’d written for and to him; and drawings he’d given him over the years on display as well. His skills had progressed as their relationship had. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It made Bill cringe a bit to see the drawings he’d given him when they were 13, or the first poems he’d written to Stanley that he was so convinced at the time that they were good. But, it made him happy that Stanley treasured them so much, and kept them safe all that time. His little paper gifts were one of the first things Stanley saw when he got up in the morning and went to sleep at night as he completed his routines in front of the mirror, and that meant a lot to Bill. It felt amazing to be so important to him. Those notes were more important to Stanley than Bill could ever realize; he spent hours in front of a mirror sometimes, combing his hair a hundred times, or making sure his kippah was perfectly in the middle of his hair. Those notes could calm him down. Finally, Stanley found the courage to speak. He had no idea where he was going with this, he just hoped he found his point towards the end. He took the first cohesive thought he had and ran with that. Bill rested his hands softly, yet still possessively on Stanley’s hips, and that was the catalyst for Stanley’s confessions. He felt he didn’t deserve to be touched in such a way. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “I can’t do this anymore!” Stanley blurted out, and Stanley immediately regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his lips and materialized into something tangible. Bill was completely shocked, that was not what he was expecting at all- was he about to break up with him? So help him god, if Stanley had actually listened to Richie and Eddie’s paranoid warnings and was going to break up with him because ‘it wasn’t safe to be together’ Bill thought he might combust into flames; that’s how angry he’d be. Angry at Richie and Eddie, not Stanley; never at Stanley. As far as Bill was concerned, Stanley was a victim in all of this- and you can be the judge of how flawed that dissection and take away is; he’s at the mercy of your deposition. Bev thought of him as a love struck fool too deliriously in love to make a good decision and too prone to recklessness and impulsivity that any rash judgement would be a bit too harsh, and Richie viewed him as a selfish idiot who valued getting laid over his own safety. And Mike was just left wondering why Bill would risk it all for a demon possessed succubus when he was right there, free of Satan’s puppet strings. Again, you decide how flawed those take always are. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Either way, Bill didnt want Stanley to break up wth him, he’d stay by his side until the bitter end; whatever that end happened to be. “What??” Bill asked quickly, nervousness oozing from his voice, his voice was an obvious clue as to how nervous he was that Stanley was breaking up with him; but in case that wasn’t clear enough, his face said it all. Stanley only felt worse, and rushed to clarify. “S-Sorry, terrible choice of words, I cant keep living this lie, that’s what I can’t keep doing. I need.. I need to say something.” He announced with complete and total fear and nothing else, he’d lost the steam of his adrenaline minutes ago. He was running on empty, and running on the fleeting desire to do what was right. He wished the truth was as easy as a lie. What Bill said next, left Stanley completely speechless, but also left him with a million and one thoughts, that hit him like a ton of bricks, or a punch to the stomach. Never, in a billion years did Stanley expect the response Bill had. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That you’re a demon? I already know princess,” He spoke with the candour as though it was nothing, and Stanley didn’t know to be thankful for it or beg him to come to his senses. His absolute favourite nickname almost crumbled his last remaining resolve, but he pressed on. Stanley couldn’t believe what Bill had just said. He thought he was better at hiding it, at leaving Bill out of it- had he failed him? And if he knew, how did he find out- did other people know? He had a feeling that some of the losers did, but he never could know for sure. If he did know, he hadn’t treated him any different; so maybe this was a good sign? But, he also was worried- he knew better than he knew anyone or anything; and sometimes Bill chose to ignore things and just shut down completely. Was he really okay with things, or was he just ignoring they were happening. It threw Stanley for a complete loop, he had no idea how to respond to a response so indifferent. He looked as tho he was paying it no mind, and continued to trace patterns into his hips and the top of his thighs, paying extra attention to rubbing his bruises and bite marks with the pads of his thumb. Stanley’s eyes fell half lidded and he let out a sigh, he almost stopped but he didn’t. He spoke again, his voice was raspy, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re oddly calm about this, I.. I’m the one responsible for all of the disappearances, I-“ He was so calm about this it honestly started to freak Stanley out. “Feed on flesh to survive, I know you do babydoll. Do you think I’d have just fucked you and told you I love you about what, a thousand times tonight, if I didn’t know that?” His dirty words gave him chills, and also made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Bill took his spent member in his hand, softly stroking him off, the pace was so slow he didn’t even notice it at first. He quickly worked up to going faster. Stanley was determined not to get distracted by his touches and continue speaking, all though he really, REALLY, didn’t want to. He let out a strained moan he tried hard to suppress, and asked with a sigh, “How long did you k-know... -ah!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For a few weeks, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, gorgeous, I just thought you should be the one to tell me... you know?” and Stanley was so thankful for that. He still could not believe what he was saying, and how calm he was being. He was worried now. He smiled, he didn’t know why he was smiling, but he smiled; something just came over him. This was possibly best case scenario- in fact, Bill was the one to tell him the knees. And, he was seemingly.. fine with this? “Thank you, wow. I don’t deserve you” Stanley told him, and Bill noticed a sadness to his voice, and that broke his heart. “Of course you do,” Bill tried to reassure, and took of his hands in his and brought it against his lips. Stanley felt awful, and spoke with more seriousness. “I really, really don’t. How did you find out?” Stanley asked, and Bill thought that it wasn’t best to try and comfort him anymore, they had to have this conversation. And no amount of pet names were going to make it easier, they’d help but it would make it easier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Richie and Eddie told me” Bill answered, hoping that it wouldn’t be something that would upset him too much. Although, he wouldn’t blame him if it was, he’d be upset too if the roles were reversed and people were having secret meetings and conspiring against him. Suddenly it was like the skies opened up and everything made sense to Stanley- well, everything in terms of why Eddie and Richie and Bill were no longer on speaking terms anymore. “So that’s why you haven’t been speaking to him...”, and Bill nodded. Nothing really made sense to Stanley outside of that. He was still confused as hell, no pun intended, as to why Bill was so fine with this. If the roles were reversed, he would be understanding and help Bill, but after a bit of time- he wouldn’t be able to wrap his mind around things so fast. But, to be fair, he had a couple weeks head start to wrap his mind around things, so maybe that was it? Stanley couldn’t be sure. But either way, who was he to throw away and dismiss support just because it didn’t make sense to him? He wished life could be as simple as calculus- that was easy, trying to work this out, was terribly difficult. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sensing Stanley was deep in thought, he said something to try and maybe pull him out of it. “Sandbox love never dies, we promised each other to never judge each other, and I’ll keep that promise no matter what.” He tried to add a smile to make it more convincing so Stanley would believe him. All it managed to do was break his heart, he hated to think that Bill was just... saying that, and felt that he needed to say it. Bill deserved so much better than this, was all Stanley was left thinking. “Please don’t think I expect you to keep that promise, for something as serious as this. You don’t have to be so accepting, I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out that door right now. I... I love you so much Bill, don’t love me back because you feel like you have to,” and he quickly became overwhelmed, they both did. Bill smile fell from his face and turned into a frown. “I love you. Please, believe that. They both told me everything I need to know, I wish it could’ve come from you, but it didn’t. I know everything I need to know. And what I do know, is that... it’s... it’s all Richie’s fault. The only thing I’m upset about is that you thought I’d break up with you over this.” and Stanley’s heart wrenched, that was the wrong takeaway. How was he supposed to convince him otherwise- and did he even try to? He needed this support, but he also needed  Bill to be safe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bill, I’m a monster- you shouldn’t be with someone like me. Sure, Richie was the one to possess me, but, I should’ve been stronger. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m... I’m sorry.” He was trying his very best to convince him, he wanted Bill to treat him as he deserved to be treated. “You don’t need to apologize to anyone, and it certainly isn’t me... please, Stan...” He tried to say but Stanley wasn’t buying it, he wanted more than anything to yell, “Bill! I’ve killed people, run far, far away and never look back.” But he couldn’t, he couldn’t bare say those words to Bill, let alone himself. If he spoke them aloud they’d materialize into something he couldn’t take back, and he couldn’t admit that no matter how much he’d try to. “Plus, Stan... yes, you may have done some things. But, you aren’t giving Richie enough credit, or I guess... discredit. Bad credit; I mean. He was the one to tie your hands and say the words. This is on him.” Stanley couldn’t believe he was referring to murder as ‘some things’. And still, Bill had more to say, so Stanley stayed silent- not that he had much of a response in mind either. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps he was glad Bill seemed to have the everlasting propensity to ramble on, and on, and on. But Stanley was grateful for the ramblings, because so far they were all things he was happy to hear, even if he was a bit confused by. Things were going... well? Things weren’t making sense and weren’t going as he’d planned but maybe that could possibly be a good thing. Stanley wasn’t sure, he was still making sense of everything. Really all he was thinking about was the hand as present as ever on his cock, going agonizingly slow, precum was slowly forming at the tip, he grabbed the sheets below him with his free hand, trying to settle himself. “I’ve read about succubi. And, it isn’t really you doing... all these things.” Even Bill was extremely apprehensive about saying the big bad ‘m’ word, even he couldn’t look past everything; his rose coloured glasses couldn’t tint everything pink. “It’s whats possessing you that’s doing all of these things. And, I fell in love with you, so, I can separate the two if you can. My... my boyfriend isn’t the one doing all of these things.” Bill continued, and Stanley thought he was on the verge of exploding, in agony and in pleasure, Bill wasn’t making this any easier by stroking him off like this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I.. -ah! Bill!” Stanley tried to speak but Bill picked up the speed of his hand to cut him off. “Don’t tell me anything about my boyfriend, I already know all I need to. In fact, let me tell you about him. He’s sweet, he’s compassionate, he’s the strongest, bravest person I know, he’s adorable,” Bill beamed, smiling at him as he brought a bead of precum off of his cock to his lips, the visual of that alone left him trembling. And Stanley is honestly about to cry because he’s so completely and totally overjoyed that Bill took it so well, and could still stand to say such sweet things about him. This had honestly inspired him, maybe everything he’d ever wanted to say wasn’t really that bad at all. He felt free, and like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe he would do well to tell all of his secrets, maybe he could even tell his parents he was gay. He’d been feeling bad about keeping something so big from his parents; and, maybe if telling his boyfriend he was being possessed by the devil went so well, maybe telling his parents he only liked men could go well as well. The world and life as he knew it seemed to be flipped on its head, and Stanley would be a fool to not take advantage of that... right?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I’d love it if he could go to the dance with me, just like we’d planned to.. because Richie and Eddie aren’t going to tell us what to do. Everyone keeps trying to say that you’re unstable. But you know what, I’m unstable as hell. And you stuck by me through everything. I love you too,” Bill told him, with so much surety that it was obvious there was no way to talk him out of it, so he didn’t bother trying to anymore. Things could be as they were for now, he just hoped there would come a time when Bill could function without him, for Bill’s sake. He knew he didn’t deserve Bill, or the unconditionality of his love. “Don’t compare yourself to me I-“ Stanley said, it was his last attempt to reason with him, and Bill’s voice changed immediately, it was no longer happy and sincere. Well, it was still sincere, but with an emphasis on the ‘sin’ part of the word. His voice was gruff, and was intertwined with seduction. “Shhh, princess. I said what I said....” and Stanley heeded his words and said no more, all rational thought left him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want me to make you cum, baby?” and Stanley nodded with definite agreement, and he shut his eyes and threw his head back as Bill pumped him faster, he was so close. “Please...” Stanley whimpered, rocking into Bill’s touch. “Look at you, so pretty like this... so perfect,” he cooed, and Stanley shook his head and tensed up a bit at the word ‘perfect’, a loud voice in his head shouted at him that he wasn’t worth being called that. “Ah!- don’t say that...” His words were slurred and his breaths were hitched and few and far between. “Don’t say that, you know that it’s true... I wish you could see how fucking hot you look. You close, baby?” was Bill’s smooth reply. Stanley bit his lip and nodded, whimpering at the sound of his seductive praise. “I’m so close!!! Bill!! Oh, G-d...” He cried out loudly, and in that moment he was extremely thankful his parents weren’t home because they probably would have heard every word of that. It was music to Bill’s ears however, because he was there to hear it, he sounded so filthy and so shameless; he wanted to draw him to completion over and over again. “You want me to fuck you, honey? Wanna cum on my cock?” He asked, knowing full well what his answer was going to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please...” He mewled softly, trying not to make his desperation too known or too obvious, he didn’t know if he had enough energy to orgasm twice that night but, he was willing and able to push himself to his breaking point. He had an insatiable appetite for anything Bill was willing to do to him. Bill was addicted to how ‘please’ sounded on his lips, so breathless and so needy for his touch. He held grabbed onto both of his hips, digging his nails into his skin for good measure, Stanley whined in pleasure at the slight pain. Bill held his hips, and lowered him down onto his hardening member. Stanley’s eyes shot open as he felt his tip push past his entrance, he groaned as he stretched to accommodate it, the cum left over there was used as makeshift lube. Stanley clenched around his cock as he felt Bill bottom out inside him, and Bill let out a hushed growl at the feeling of how tight and how warm he was. “God, look again you, needy little thing aren’t you?” Bill laughed, raspy and gruffly. Stanley whined out a soft yes, and Bill held his hips there for awhile so he’d get used to it. “M-more, please.... faster Bill!!” He nearly screamed, wanting way more than Bill was giving him, and Bill smirked. He felt Stanley try to move his hips to create some sort of friction, rocking into his hands for some sort of feeling. “Don’t you wanna get used to it honey?” He asked with faux innocence as if he was oblivious, and Stanley shook his head with a harsh no. “Please... make it hurt, -ah!” He moaned, and Bill cursed under his breath, he sounded so beautifully sinful he couldn’t believe he was real sometimes. “Fuck- princess, you’re such a slut for it, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill lifted Stanley off of his member, and slammed himself back onto it, biting his lip as he watched himself disappear into him. Stanley impaled himself on Bill’s cock over and over like his life depended on it. He bounced up and down on it, his moans joining the symphony of the sound of slapping skin. “Harder, please, I can take it!!” Stanley begged, he was honestly was stunned he could say something so coherent and easily understandable. His brain was starting to go fuzzy. He wanted him so badly he felt tears start to well up in his eyes, he felt that satisfaction was nearly seconds away. He was on the brink of exploding as he felt fire start to pool in his stomach. Bill raised his hips up to meet Stanley’s, nearly at a loss for words but, a simple muse came to mind. “Fuck, you’re filthy...” Bill smirked, and Stanley nodded half heartedly, he grabbed at the blankets below him to try and steady himself. He worked up all his nerve and all his composer to voice his next desire. “P-please, choke me too. fuck!!! please, oh, Bill-“ He stuttered, and Bill had no choice but to comply, he was so fucking pretty when he asked, mouth hanging open, eyes half lidded and brows burrowed, his forehead glowing with a thin layer of carnal sweat. He made a v shape with his hand and brought it to the column of his throat, gripping it softly. He nearly came at the visual of his hand around his neck alone. He started squeezing the sides softly, and gradually harshened his grip the way he new Stanley liked. His fresh bite marks were still a bit sensitive against his skin, and it stung a bit when the tips of his fingers squeezed against them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley mewled at the feeling, he loved it so fucking much. “Look at you... look how beautiful you are. It’s like my hand belongs on your throat, fuck, princess...” Bill trailed off, head going fuzzy at how well Stanley stretched around him, his precum getting onto his stomach. Stanley moaned loudly, being called princess always got him. He was getting lightheaded and dizzy in the best way, he was so close he could almost taste it. “Look at how good you take cock, god you’re so pretty,” Bill mused to him again, saying whatever thought came to his mind. Stanley was at a loss for words, all he could do was groan softly as he felt Bill rub up against his prostate over and over again. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you honey?” Bill asked, but, he never could’ve anticipated Stanley’s reply, Stanley threw him for a loop in turn. “Yes I do, daddy, ...please!!” and Stanley and Bill realized what Stanley accidentally let slip at the same time, and Bill almost thought his heart stopped. Did he just said what he thought he did? Both of them were asking that question. Bill stopped moving for a few seconds, completely taken by surprise. The mental image of Stanley calling him that, while his hand was around his throat was sure to not be forgotten any time soon. That would be in the back of his mind, always...  because, how could he think of anything else, why would he want to think of anything else; when he could be replaying that moment in his memory, over and over. Stanley felt his cock twitch deep inside of him, and he hoped that that was a good sign, because still he said nothing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley scrambled to explain as they looked at each other in silence. “I’m... sorry, I’ve been wanting to call you that for awhile, a really long time actually. But I never had the courage to bring it up, I didn’t want you to think I was weird but, I guess I’ve just spilling all my secrets tonight,” Stanley admitted, trying to read his expressionless face. He laughed nervously to try and ease tensions if there were any. Stanley couldn’t tell. Bill still hadn’t said anything and it was driving him insane with worry, his hand still hadn’t left his throat so maybe that was a good sign? But, his grip had lessened a bit so, maybe it wasn’t? Stanley still couldn’t tell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t call you that again, if um... if you don’t want me to...” Stanley rushed to say, and he watched Bill’s formerly expressionless face change into a smirk that sent tingles down Stanley’s spine and  heat to his groin. Stanley just wanted to shout, “Say something!” he was going to be sick from worry. Finally, after what felt like hours to Stanley, Bill spoke his thoughts. “I think that you’ve been very bad, princess. You should never be shy about telling your daddy things... remind me to discipline you for that later.” and he picked up right where he left off, slamming into him without warning. “Oh my gosh, -fuck!” Stanley let out a high pitched moan, he was so happy Bill was on board. Bill took in the beautiful sight in front of him. He looked like a living, breathing wet dream. He clenched around his cock and Bill could tell he was close, he wanted to have him all on display just like this so he could sit back and watch him cum as pleasure took over them both. Stanley’s mouth fell open and a string of moans and curses came out, nearly incomprehensible, getting jumbled up in his throat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“D-Daddy... ‘m gunna cum,” Stanley murmured, and that was honestly, probably the most arousing thing Bill had ever heard. “Make yourself cum honey, let daddy watch you touch yourself,” Bill suggested, and Stanley did as he was told immediately, his words drove him insane. He took his own cock in his hand as he used his remaining strength to slam their hips together. He stroked himself with a shaky hand, minutes away from ecstasy. “Y-you’re good at saying things like that...” Stanley murmured, and Bill laughed. “Things like what honey?” and Stanley was suddenly so very sheepish, and couldn’t really articulate what he meant by that. “Dirty things like that... you’re good at it?” and Bill laughed again, “I’m so good at it because you turn me on so god damn much, you drive me fucking insane, doll.” He whispered, and he asked him one final question, “You think I’m good at getting you off?” and Stanley tilted his head up, he was too far gone to be able to nod. “Yes!! Oh gosh, yes!! Ah-!” and pleasure took over his senses, he came around his own hand, spilling all over Bill’s stomach. The hand around his neck Bill fucked him hard through his orgasm, until he finally came as well, shooting hot cum deep inside of him, praising him as he did so. Stanley’s legs nearly gave out, as he quivered and trembled as he came. He pulled himself off of Bill’s spent cock, and rolled over next to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill smiled, and pulled the covers over him. Stanley smiled in the same way Bill did, they were both so tired and sleep was tugging at both of them. Stanley felt Bill’s release drip down his thighs for a second time, and he had a feeling that all could be good again. Bill pulled him close, and Stanley burred his face in his chest. Bill ran a comforting hand down his back, and kept it there, “I’m always going to be there for you, forever, through anything,” He reassured, and Stanley was so tired he barely could respond. “I love you,” came his groggy reply, and they both believed each other. Stanley quickly was taken by sleep, soundly in Bill’s arms. “I love you, more” Bill whispered fondly, even though he knew Stanley could no longer hear him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The day of the formal came very quickly, it was a frosty cold November evening in Maine. It would’ve been a dreary day on any other night, the cold nipping your cheeks as the cool winter air was swept in from the appalachian mountains on the border with Quebec. November would’ve been boring on any other day, all it was was the long waiting period that made Hanukkah feel way too far away. He was experiencing many, many emotions. Stanley felt as though his heart could beat right out of his chest. Not only because there would be so much ample prey at the dance, but also, because this was the day was the day he had decided to officially come out to his parents. He had written a note because he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. He was brave but, he was nowhere near that brave. This took him enough courage just to be able to write, “I’m gay” on a piece of paper to his parents, let alone actually say that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was a big enough step as it was. The note had taken him awhile to write because it was heavy. He wanted to make sure he said it exactly right, and also because he had to rewrite everything about 10 times, he had to do it that way so everything would be perfectly neat. It always took him an extra hour to write his tests and his assignments in school even when he was little. He even had to bring a note from his psychologist every start of a new semester to get more time. He remembered Bill waiting for him to finish all of his tests, he’d always wait for him during recess; he remembered that very fondly. He cherished those memories, because most people were not very kind to him regarding that fact. Stanley felt the neatly folded note poke him in the pocket of his perfectly folded dress pants. In true Stanley fashion, it was written in perfect, evenly spaced cursive, written in his favourite colour of blue ink from his favourite fountain pen. He’d probably read and reread what he’d thought about writing and what he actually ended up writing, 20 times. He’d never thought about a letter so much, and he still thought he was going into this situation blind. He was, in one word absolutely fucking: terrified. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But if he could tell 2 huge catastrophic secrets in one night with seemingly nothing but good consequences, he wanted to ride the wave of good luck and chase the high telling secrets gave him. He thought his parents would be more accepting than average, they’d always been. They’d taken him to therapy when he needed it, in a time where the general public looked very unfavourably on the mentally ill. They’d always let him express himself in any way that he wanted to, and never batted an eye when he wanted to dress like he was 40 when he was 11, complete with perfectly shined penny loafers and pressed socks. He’d never been a conventional child ever, he’d cry at the thought of getting dirty, and cringed at the idea of sports. And his parents never pressured him to fit into a mold or a box where he wouldn’t fit in. He was their only son, and they treated him as such, they treasured him way too much to ever judge him. Or at least, Stanley had hoped so. Stanley actually hoped that maybe they could even empathize with his situation. They’d gotten married in their very early twenties, and had him a few months later, and their parents didn’t talk to them for a few years over that. And, obviously that discrepancy, while unfortunate, was nothing compared to the hardship gay people faced; ESPECIALLY in the early 90s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>One was a choice the other wasn’t, but, Stanley could hope they would at least understand what he was going through, and wouldn’t treat him the way their parents did. His father was a rabbi after all, being understanding was part of the job. Stanley just hoped his parents could understand that. He’d always gotten away with things since he was their only child, they only had one of him so, they were extra protective, and a bit easier on him than other parents were. Besides, he was 17 now, and school would be coming to an end in a few months. Which meant adulthood was just around the corner- he didn’t want to refer Bill as his friend or his roommate until he got up the courage in his 30s to be honest with them. He was already hiding the fact he was a succubus, if he had to hide the fact that he was gay he honestly thought he’d explode. The note in his pocket read as follows;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dear mom and dad,</p>
<p>I have something very important I need to share with both of you. The recent events in Derry have really got me thinking of how fragile life can be, and how important life is. I would like to live my life with both of you going forward as authentically as I possibly can. I love you both very much, and I know that both of you love me very much as well. And, I hope that that love is unconditional, because it is on my end, and I have something I need to share with both of you that might test that unconditionality to its limits. So, I pray that it doesn’t fail. I am a homosexual, but, I don’t like saying it that way. It sounds too formal, when really, this isn’t very formal! This is just a letter, telling you something, that doesn’t even really matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m still your son, and I still love you, and I hope you can love me still as well. I’ve known this since I was around 11 years old, so, sorry this is 6 years too late. I hope this doesn’t change anything, because nothing is changing. This has always been me, you just know now. Sorry I put this in a note as well, I just didn’t know how to say it out loud. And I suppose I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud to you both as well. I hope for your discretion, and I hope with everything in me that this doesn’t change the way you see me.<br/>
Much love, cordially,<br/>
Stanley </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t want to get into much more detail, and if his parents responded negatively, he supposed they wouldn’t want much more detail either. He was just waiting for the right time and right place that night to show it to his parents. He wanted to show them before Bill got there to pick him up so they could mull it over while he wasn’t there. And that window of time was closing by the second, so that was weighing on him too. He checked himself out in the mirror in his foyer, nervously waiting for Bill to pick him up, not that he’d try to seduce anyone to night, but damn, he had to admit he looked amazing. His crisp white dress shirt fit him perfectly, and his black suit jacket and pants fit him perfectly. And, he matched his dark grey tie to his kippah, he looked really good, so good, he was entranced by his own reflection. Seducing someone just sounded so appealing, he was becoming more and more insatiable. He craved blood and he craved fear more and more every passing day, he was slowly losing his grasp on his resolve. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, as he looked in the mirror he realized he could look so much better. Bill had been so nice to him and so accepting, he was trying so hard to be the kind of boyfriend he could be proud of. Now that this secret wasn’t just his anymore, he was trying really hard not to kill anyone. His skin was a little paler and less lifeless, and it was dry, and his lips were getting a bit chapped, and his curls weren’t as bouncy. He hated it, but, he wanted Bill to be proud of him. “Maybe a bit of blood wouldn’t hurt...” He thought as he focused on his new flaws, Thankfully, his mom interrupted his thoughts, unintentionally sneaking up behind him, but, Stanley could see her coming because he was looking in a mirror. “Look at you!! You look so grown up!! You look as grown up as you did the day of your bar mitzvah, you remember that day?” She asked cheerfully, she was so sickly sweet it was contagious, and Stanley couldn’t help but smile, slightly annoyed and embarrassed even though they were the only two people in the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, I remember mom. And I hope you’re just saying that, I hope I look a bit older from when I was 13 years old,” and they both laughed. “Yes, of course you do sweetie! You can’t blame me for being sentimental though... so, who’s your date?” She asked with the gossiping curiosity of any mother, wondering who the lucky girl was. And, it was very obvious she thought the answer would be a girl, Stanley couldn’t blame her for that. He got cold at that question. He had no idea how to answer that, should be be honest? Did he just bite the bullet and tell him he was gay, and he was gay for his best friend that was over at his house for ‘sleep overs’ every other weekend, and that said best friend was going to be taking him. And then it occurred to him that his silence was probably very suspicious. Finally, he answered in a very nonspecific way, but if you read between the lines you’d know all you needed to. He trusted his heteronormative parents would not read between the lines. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bill is taking me.” He spoke flatly, and, he was right, his mom couldn’t read between the lines. She smiled and adjusted Stanley’s tie, which wasn’t necessary because he’d spent 2 hours tying and retying it, but, she did so for something to do so she could feel involved. “Oh, he’s giving you a ride? Is he giving your date a ride too?” and Stanley honestly was at a loss, what the hell was he supposed to say to that? How could they be so oblivious to something so obvious? Stanley’s heart felt like it could burst through his chest at any moment, stampedes has nothing on the beats of his heart. “I, um.. No. He is my date, Bill Denbrough is taking me.. as his date. We’re dating... each other. Surprise!....” and Stanley trailed off with a  nervous laugh, and even more nervous jazz hands. He’d never been so awkward in his life, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. He watched as the colour drain from his mom’s face, and her eyes widen in complete and total shock. He nervously grabbed the folded note and gave it to his mom, and mumbled out a very faint, “Please open that, and um... read it?” he was far too scared to meet her eyes as she did so. But, he was so nervous to see as to what she was thinking he almost looked just to see her expression and see if it was readable. Bill would be his saving grace, if things didn’t go well, he was probably 10 minutes away from his house by now, he’d pick him up and they’d think of a plan on the way. And if things went terribly wrong- Stanley could probably live in Bill’s house until he turned 18 and they could legally live on their own in an apartment. Bill’s parents probably wouldn’t notice in all honesty, and January 4th wasn’t too far away, they were thinking Portland or Burlington, in a perfect world. He just wish his mom would say anything so he could decide if that worst case scenario disaster plan would be necessary. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m, really sorrry for not saying anything earlier, and for saying it like this. I was just scared, I-“ And he didn’t really know where he was going with that, or even why he was apologizing. Still, his mom said nothing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Donald...” she called Stanley’s father in from the other room, and her tone was as unreadable as her face. Stanley was terrified as he walked in, looking confused as to why she called him in. She handed him the note, and Stanley watched as his father took it, and read it, and reread it, and then reread it a third time. He said nothing as well, and had shock on his face, but, not too much shock- and it had no emotion behind it. Stanley still couldn’t tell if he’d made a mistake by telling his parents this. So, he spoke again and filled the void in the room with an awkward ice breaker, rather than overwhelming silence that weighed heavy on him. “So.. if that letter isn’t clear enough, I’m, um... I’m gay” he immidiately cringed as he heard how awkward that came out- no pun intended. And he listened, and waited as his parents still said nothing. They weren’t even looking at him, Stanley wanted to die. His parents looked at each other, and then at Stanley, and then back at each other. , “And that’s perfectly okay with us,” Quickly, he was pulled into an equally as awkward by both of his parents, which he wasn’t the biggest fan of, but that was a lot better than being disowned so, he accepted it happily. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And, Donald, he’s seeing that Denbrough boy! You know, the lanky one who used to have the stutter, he’s such a sweet boy!! I’m so happy for them both,” She rambled, and he smiled, “Oh... that boy that’s around here all the time. We’ll talk about that later, but, I’m very happy for you both if that’s what you both want,” He told him a bit awkwardly, but, Stanley was fine if he was awkward, he was expecting that awkwardness. His dad had always had an awkward sweetness to him, and to be honest, Stanley was expecting getting into a bit of trouble for lying to his parents about why Bill was over so much. “Have you two.. always been seeing each other or, is this- Not that I’m mad you’re... seeing another male, in that way. I just wish we were told earlier-“ and Stanley cut him off, “No Dad, we, um. We haven’t it’s-“ And speak of the devil, or rather, in this case, speak of the angel- the doorbell rang as if right on cue. His parents finally let him go, and went to answer it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill stood in the dimly lit doorway looking a tad bit nervous, thinking this would go the same way all the other times he picked him up went. In, out, and keeping it as seemingly platonic as possible: the general rule was, the least they looked at each other the better, and thus more convincing. He shook his car keys in his hand to fill the vapid gap of silence as he waited, until the door opened, and he was pulled into a huge hug by both of Stanley’s parents. “Welcome to the family, William!” Bill heard Stanley’s father say happily. He looked at Bill with a puzzled expression, and Stanley smiled and he held up the note. And suddenly Bill understood. He’d remember Stanley meticulously planning that letter, and calling him at least a dozen times while he planned it, and then called him to read it to him at least three times. Bill was so very proud of him, as they laughed together a few feet apart, not ready to be totally open quite yet. “You know what this means!! Pictures! William, over here where the light is better!! Stanley Donald Uris I cannot believe you didn’t tell us earlier, you know we’re always going to love you no matter what! We missed out on so many photo opportunities!” , “And Stanley shares this part of himself days before Rosh Chodesh Kislev, we truly are so blessed,” they both heard Stanley’s parents say, and Stanley and Bill just looked at each other and laughed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill had his hand rested softly on Stanley’s thigh as he drove like it belong there. “I’m so proud of you, you know,” Bill told him, and that meant a lot to Stanley. “Well, it’s just... it’s really nice to spill your guts, you know?” and Bill laughed, and started to trace patterns absently against his thigh. “Yah, I know what you mean. Still, doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of you, you’re the bravest person I know, really.” He said with a bit of melancholic sincerity. His comments made him re-examine his own life, and think wether he should tell his parents, but quickly dismissed the thought. His parents didn’t know he had a date for the night, he just told them he was going to pick Stanley’s and his date up, so he might be out very late. They had one word when he told them; ‘pathetic.’ and they certainly didn’t want to take his picture for memories sake. They didn’t even wish him good bye when he left the house. But he didn’t tell Stanley that, he thought it would just upset him. This was his night, he would never want to upset him. Bill spoke up again. “I brought you a courage, it’s in back in case your parents asked questions. I wasn’t expecting your parents to take it so well, I wasn’t expecting you to tell them at all actually,” Bill laughed sweetly. Stanley turned to kiss his cheek, and he felt blush quickly blossom beneath his lips, maybe tonight could be perfect after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They finally found a parking spot, and got out of the car, it was roughly 9:30, and it was pitch black dark outside. There was a subtle mist when the street lights shone on it just right, it was as eerie as Derry always was. But, tensions had lessened since no more boys were going missing or being found dead, so, the teenagers of Derry were hopeful as they parked outside of the rec centre. They couldn’t even park in the parking lot, their spot was a bit off the beaten path, in the parking lot across the street. That parking lot was for the community park, it was vast and full of trees, and had an old, dilapidated indoor pool on the grounds. It had been out of order for years, but there was no room in the municipal budget to tear it down, so it lay there, overgrown and condemned. Bill could remember going to swim lessons there with his younger brother Georgie during the summer months of early childhood, back when his parents still cared about him. But, care seemed to only come with Georgie, as Bill had later learned. Bill got out, and opened the door for Stanley and helped him out of the car, and Stanley grateful took his hand. At the direct touch of skin to skin contact, Stanley felt a weird rush of emotions, something he hadn’t felt since he had last deprived himself of blood for so long. It elicited something in him he couldn’t explain, but hoped he could control. It was something powerful he hadn’t felt before. It was like the rush of nervousness and anxiety times a million, he felt as though he would be sick, he could barely keep himself up to stand. Bill grabbed onto his waist to steady him, and looked at him with grave concern. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, baby, everything okay?” And Stanley shook his head no ever so slightly, and kept his mouth closed, he was too preoccupied trying not to faint, throw up, or both to respond with anything more than that. This looked a lot more serious than what Bill had originally thought, so he decided to maybe not use pet names anymore, that this was actually something concerning. “Stanley?” He called to him, grasping on his hand tighter, and that seemed to pull him out of his daze. “I feel like... I feel like I’m going to be sick or something.” Stanley announced to him, feeling woozy. “It’s probably just nerves. It’s a big night for you, your first dance, and you came out to your parents. I think it’s probably just nerves, do you want me to take you home?” and Stanley shook his head no, this time with a bit more certainty, but not very much more. “No, I’m not that sick. I think you’re probably right, it’s probably just nerves.” Stanley agreed though it was a big lie, he knew that this was a lot more than just nerves. “Are you sure, because we can take you home, especially if you’re sick. I know how being sick upsets you. Maybe you’re just allergic to your corsage, we can take that off if you want-,” Bill’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour so it seemed, new worries popping into his head every second. Stanley tried to force a smile, and kiss his cheek again to reassure him that everything was alright, while trying to reassure himself as well. This was just as scary for him. “Yes, I’m very sure, Bill. Don’t worry too much.” And Bill tried to take his words to heart but he couldn’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, if it’s just nerves, maybe some fresh air will make you feel better. Wanna take a quick walk in the park to calm you down?” He suggested to Stanley, who thought for a moment, and his smile turned more genuine the longer he considered his suggestion. It made him so happy that Bill cared for him so much, and Stanley outstretched his hand and offered it to Bill, who gladly took it. “Thank you, Bill, I would like that a lot. Maybe some fresh air will do me some good.” Which was a lie, he knew it would take a lot more than some fresh air to help him. The smell of Bill’s blood under his skin, pulsing through his body grew more pungent then ever. He could practically hear it pumping through his veins beneath his skin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He needed to get blood in him that wasn’t Bill’s and fast, but, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, he couldn’t kill someone around Bill- he refused to let him see that side of him. But, being able to resist the sweet, capillary rich temptation that was Bill’s blood and his fear was becoming more and more of a challenge every day. Other people’s blood was the only thing keeping him away from him, how was he going to be able to go through this pain? This was nearly excruciating, and worsened the deeper and deeper into the woods they got. The more and more alone they got, the pain in Stanley worsened. This night was going to be hell for him- no pun intended. They walked through the trees as Stanley tried to let their evergreen hues and crisp scent overwhelm him, which, was very, very difficult to do. His demonically enhanced hearing practically made it possible to hear Bill’s heart beat, and smell how much he wanted him. Stanley quickly became so overwhelmed, he thought he was going to pass out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were in a desolate area of the forest now, and could see the shadow of the pool house in the distance, but they paid it no mind for now. The only thing occupying their peripherals were the trees and each other. “You feeling any better?” Bill asked, and Stanley faked a smile, his face hurt from faking those so often that night. “A bit!” He lied again, he was feeling worse by the second but he’d never let Bill know that. He was trying to distract himself with the tree in front of him, and the intricacies of its weathered and worn bark. He traced its ridges with the tips of his finger, drawing its creases as he tried to take his mind off of the scent of blood. He sensed Bill behind him now, and he saw his hand softly hold his weight as he leant on the tree Stanley was seemingly so captivated by; enclosing him in arms. Stanley turned around to face him. Stanley felt tingles down his spine as Bill’s hot breath ghosted against his skin, and Stanley felt his headache throb because of Bill’s new proximity. “I’d much rather look at you than these trees,” Bill mused, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. Stanley tried to not let his voice falter too much, he was working so hard on keeping his control and composer. “Is that so?” and Bill nodded, pressing his words against the skin of his neck with a quick kiss. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley sighed, and nearly fell faint in his arms, the feeling in his stomach fluttered and felt much stronger. “‘Course it is. You look so fucking pretty, look at you...” and Stanley shook his head no, and laughed a bit because he knew that wasn’t true. He didn’t feel very pretty, especially anymore. “Don’t say that. No, I don’t... my skins so dry and my hair is so dull. I’m weak,” and Bill peppered more kisses against his skin in hopes to shut him up, he couldn’t bear to listen to anyone disparage Stanley, especially when that disparagement came from his boyfriends own lips. “Shhh, don’t talk like that. It just means you’re strong, you’re so strong and you’re so selfless. I’m so proud of you, you’ve gone how many days since your last drop of blood. You’re so selfless, I’m in awe of you, princess, I really am.” He told him, and Stanley felt him flutter for an entirely different reason. “Don’t say that...” He repeated, but it was spoken much more meekly, he didn’t want him to stop talking, but he couldn’t hear any more praises when he knew them to be untrue. He wasn’t a good person, just a bit more empathetic. Just because he was more in touch with his humanity, didn’t mean he was a good person. He was still subhuman, in his opinion. His voice was just above a whisper, as though he wanted Bill to not hear him. Or, he wanted him to hear it, but ignore it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, Stanley inched closer to him as he spoke. Bill inched closer as well, nearly closing the gap between their lips completely. “Make me stop...” Bill’s tone of voice shifted to the same volume as Stanley’s, it was nothing louder than a whisper, but he didn’t want him to ignore it. There was power to it, and a gruff lustfulness to it that couldn’t be ignored. Stanley heard him loud and clear, and grew dizzy from inhaling all of the lust emanating off of him. He made him stop talking, in the form of a rough kiss, pulling his hands from behind him to cup Bill’s face, and pushed their mouths together as soon as the words left Bill’s lips. Stanley quickly grew more and more intoxicated as the seconds of their kiss ticked away. The kiss they shared in that moment was wild and breathless, and in Bill’s opinion, long overdo. Stanley looked too damn delectable all dressed up in his suit for Bill to not want him as terribly as he did, something would be wrong with him if he didn’t. He ground his hips against Stanley’s as their kiss intensified, both moaning into each other’s open mouths. Stanley grabbed at Bill, needing to touch him everywhere. Bill’s corsage fell from his suit as Stanley clawed at his chest, desperate to be closer to him. The blue petals fell to the forrest floor and made no sound, and thus went unnoticed.   Stanley was so dizzy now, because of the overwhelming aroma of blood and lust, but also the the lack of oxygen. In all his somewhat newly acquired powers, he still needed to breathe, and he cursed that he still needed to. He missed the taste and the feeling of Bill’s mouth and tongue as they parted. Stanley spoke breathlessly,  “I’m still... anxious. Do you think I could... give you something to make my mind off of it?” and Bill smirked, “‘Course you can, mon joli canari...” and took Stanley’s hand, and led him to the pool house that looked to be a brisk 5 minute walk away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill led the way and Stanley followed very close behind, questioning every step me took. “No! What are you doing?! No alone time with him! Turn around and go into that dance so you can’t hurt him!” He thought, and then another thought rushed to him. “If his blood is off limits, the least you can have is his lust. You can just suck him off, and then you’ll be done with it. You can go back to the dance, and his lust can hold you over until you can get somebody else’s blood.” He tried to reason with himself, and he hoped that he’d be able to stick to that script. He had no idea why he was doing this, something was coming over him and he didn’t like it at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill helped Stanley through the window of the old building, and held his hand as they walked through it. It had an old, musty smell to it, that smelt as if you opened a hundred old books all at once. There was random graffiti all over the place, some spelling out initials of couples in scattered hearts, some were profanity. The blue tile of the pool was missing in some spots, and there was overgrowth of vines and other plants in the tree and growing in the cracks of the floor, and coming down from the ceiling. Stanley swore he saw frogs jumping around and bobbing from the surface of the water. There were murals of atlantis and different kinds of fish on the ceiling, the paintings had chipped and faded with time. And if cob webs were currency the owner of this place would be rich beyond their wildest dreams. The metal parts of the old life gaurd’s chair had since been taken, along with the ladders to get of the pool that weren’t bolted to the floor. Everything that could’ve been used as scrap metal had since been taken from this old place. Bill could remember swim lessons as a child, he could remember Richie pranking their swimming instructor and pretending to drown. He could remember helping Georgie get water out of his swimming googles when they arrived home. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was nothing left of this place, other than memories now. The twinkling light from the sky above shown through from the holes in the ceiling, there was no other source of light. It gave everything a much more eerie glow, much more eerie than it was already. It brought attention to the grossest and most decrepit aspects of the abandon pool. The long since popped ALF pool floatie that sunk to the bottom of the algae infested water really showed the places age. He felt Stanley break free of his grasp as he was lost in thought, and heard the tapping of his dress shoes against the moss covered aquamarine tile. “I’ve never been here before!” Stanley shouted, sounding a bit happier now. The thrill of breaking the rules lifted his spirits in a weird way. Bill never could’ve convinced him to trespass any day before September 14th, and yet there was, enjoying himself where he wasn’t supposed to be. Stanley’s voice called Bill from the slumber of his thoughts, and he chuckled. His chuckle bounced around the abandoned walls and echoed. “Really? Me and Georgie-“ and stopped himself once he remembered who’s company he was in, and corrected himself. “Georgie and I used to take swim lessons as kids. Richie did as well.” His tone changed from reminiscence to mad as he said Richie’s name. Stanley hadn’t heard it on his lips since he’d confessed to him, it felt foreign to hear him say it in such an unfavourable way. “I learned how to swim as a child as well, except I learned by Richie pushing me into the river off of the cliff we’d jump from as kids.” and they both shared a laugh metres apart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I remember that day,” Bill said absently, focusing on minding his steps, the ground was slippery and he didn’t want to lose his footing and fall in that murky, tadpole infested water. “Hey! Be careful by the edge, it’s slippery. You’re still feeling woozy, you might fall in. We should get going, you hate places like this. It’s so dirty and it’s... disgusting, quite honestly....” Bill called out to Stanley, reason suddenly kicking in. Stanley giggled, and ran up to him. He grabbed his hand, and led him by the pool’s edge, and they both sat down on the driest, mostly plant-free stretch of tile. Stanley looked at him, and Bill didn’t recognize the person he was staring back at. He looked different, he acted different as well. His mannerisms were different, it was as if he was a completely different person. It was as if he was in a daze, or he was in a trance. It freaked Bill out, if he was being honest. He wasn’t scared of Stanley, or even considered the possibility of him hurting him, it just... didn’t sit right with him. “I just wanna stay here and kiss you forever.” Stanley whispered, softly touching Bill’s lips, and fingers snaking downwards to trace his cupid’s bow, and run the pad of his finger against his bottom lip. Bill trembled out of his touch, backing away, Stanley didn’t seem to even notice, his eyes were glazed over, it was as though he wasn’t even there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself... come here, I have some hand sanitizer in my pocket for you.” Bill was terrified now, he’d never seen Stanley like this. It wasn’t Stanley, it was as if a spirit was possessing his body. The lights were off and no one was home. “I sound much better than myself” Stanley mused seductively, kissing his lips as soft as a feather, and didn’t linger long. He trailed his kisses to his sharp jawline, and trailed them lower, just above the faint blue and grey plaid dress shirt he was wearing under his blazer. He was long gone, he had no control over his actions. He was a shell, and had no free will. Stanley Uris wasn’t there, he was gone. All that were left, was his urges. Bill felt his kisses stop, and before either of them knew it, Stanley opened his mouth wider than humanly possible. Stanley wasn’t human in that moment. The real Stanley came to as soon as he felt his first and second rows of teeth pierce the skin of his neck. He nearly came as tasted his blood, he’d never tasted anything so exquisite, or felt anything so fulfilling. As soon as he came to, he pushed himself off of Bill, Bill was in so much shock he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to push Stanley off of him, he was in so much shock be barely even felt it. He let out a blood curdling shriek, in emotional and physical agony. He saw his blood on Stanley’s chin, and drip down his neck. He brought his trembling hand to his wound, and lapped his blood between his fingers. He was going woozy as blood poured from his wound like a broken dam. Then and there, Stanley realized what he did, and shook in terror and guilt. He was quivering on the ground, guilt crushing him as he came to. He had no idea what just happened, and what he just did. He was screaming louder than Bill was, tears were gushing from his eyes, he couldn’t remember ever crying so hard. He yelled out slurred apologies, burying his face in his arms and the disgusting ground so he couldn’t see Bill’s pain, that the demon possessing him had caused. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something like this had never happened before, he was always aware of his actions, but it was like he left his body, and that his soul was watching his body carry out the action. And, strangely, Bill knew that, and rushed over to where Stanley was cowering in extreme sadness. He still loved Stanley even now, and he was more sure than ever that that love would be forever unchanging. If violent delights were fated to have violent ends, then so be it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill got up and tried to walk over to where Stanley had crawled away to, his steps were staggered and shaky due to the loss of blood that was staining his clothes with the vivid colour of ink. It dripped on the floor as he walked, spreading as it bled into droplets of water. “Stanley?” Bill whispered, trying to keep him calm, the emptiness of the abandoned building only made his sobs louder. “I don’t want to be on the floor Bill. It’s making me stay on the floor, like it made me bite you. Bill!!!! PLEASE get me of this floor... No wait, don’t come any closer. I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Stanley whimpered, crying profusely as he heard Bill coming closer to him, the tile did nothing to make footsteps subtle. Bill ran to him, and he felt so lightheaded, he saw the room spin around. Stanley was shaking under his feet, and Bill was trying really hard not to fall on top of him. He leaned against the wall of the corner Stanley was curled up in a ball in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh... fuck... ow,” Bill laughed, trying to find some humour in this, but his breath was so strained it was barely audible, and that just made Stanley’s sobs louder. His scream of agony replayed in his head over and over again. The demon possessing him made him do something terrible, unforgivable, and left him to deal with the consequences. He wiped the blood off of his lips with his sleeve, but still, he craved it. He hated himself so much in that moment, he was scared of what he was going to do next. Bill knew Stanley would never hurt him consciously, but still, he never fully grasped that Stanley could be that unpredictable. A small part of Bill felt deeply betrayed, even though he knew Stanley had no control over his actions. He had to let Stanley know that everything was okay, and that as long as Stanley needed to be saved, Bill would find some way to cling to life. He was terrible at biology, but he also knew that a gash to the throat was not a good thing. He crouched down to Stanley’s level, and turned his head up with his hand, forcing him to look at him, he saw Stanley’s tear stained beautiful brown eyes, and his heart broke for him. He wondered if Stanley could hear it shatter. He saw how truly sorry and distraught he was, and he thought that’s he’d gladly let Stanley take one of the shards of his heart and stab him with it a million times over if it meant Stanley be okay again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It... isn’t your fault.” Bill tried to reassure, running his hand through Stanley’s curly hair, staining the brown with his red remnants. “Don’t be nice to me, I don’t deserve your kindness.” and Bill felt tears fall from his own eyes, getting onto Stanley’s face. “Stanley, please, look at me...” and blue met brown, finally, he sensed humanity behind Stanley’s gaze again. Bill understood now, it wasn’t Stanley who had done this to him, and thus he wasn’t mad at Stanley, because he didn’t do it. Forgiveness was easy when, in theory, there was nothing to forgive. Stanley cried harder as he looked into those beautiful blue eyes, fearing that they’d close forever because of him, and lose their beautiful opalescence. His eyes matched the colour of the tile, they were the colour of a bright blue sky, and now Stanley understood why his favourite colour had always been blue ever since he’d known Bill. “I didn’t do that, the real me didn’t do that. I’m the fucking worst. This thing possessing me is a fucking cancer. I can’t stand myself.” Stanley trembled, rambling on and on until he said what he really wanted to say with such emotional intensity it scared Bill. Stanley meant every word as he screamed, “YOU NEED TO KILL ME. Just fucking kill me, please-“ Stanley yelled, he knew now he was a ticking time bomb, and just as unpredictable as Eddie had said he was. Stanley made a mental note, to never, EVER, doubt Edward Kaspbrak as long as he shall live. He was in this damn mess in the first place because he doubted him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck, as much as it would annoy him, he deserved to have Eddie tell him he told him so. Bill scrunched his eyes shut in an effort to stop from crying, the saltiness of the tears trailed down his face and into his neck wound. And also, above all else, he needed to be strong for Stanley. He couldn’t breathe at the thought of Stanley dying, he couldn’t function if Stanley wasn’t alive. He’d rather have a ticking time bomb, than have no ticking time bomb. He loved Stanley far too much to ever live without him; agony with him would be unimaginable without him. Stanley was his whole life, so losing Stanley was a death sentence for him as well. Bill said nothing, and grabbed Stanley and supported him with all his remaining strength. Bill held him by the waist, and took one of his hands in his, both of them were shaking terribly. Stanley continued to cry, his tears dampened the fabric of Bill’s dress shirt which muffled his cries as well, as he buried his face in his bloodstained chest. He tried to spin him around, as if they were dancing. Bill forced Stanley’s feet over his, so he could guide them. Bill was bleeding terribly, but that didn’t matter right now as he held Stanley close to him. They both had two left feet but that didn’t matter anyways, this moment was nice, in a strange way. Bill hummed a tune unmistakable to the both of them, Heaven Is a Place on Earth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley sobbed even more, he didn’t deserve that song, and he didn’t deserve a moment so nice shared with a boy so perfect who loved him even though he took a chunk out of his neck. Bill continued to hum to them both, and made them both sway to the music. As far as Bill was concerned, Stanley deserved the dance they planned on going to, and deserved him, and deserved a bit of normal. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you being so nice to me... I don’t deserve it.” It was barely audible, plus muffled, but Bill still heard it. “I just wish, you could see yourself the way I do, then you.. you wouldn’t wonder why I do this for you” he answered quickly, so he could go back to humming the song. And Stanley felt so guilty, he needed to take off Bill’s rose coloured glasses. He had no idea why he still had them on either; it was as if they were fastened onto his face with bolts. He felt he didn’t deserve to be thought so highly of, to be so highly regarded. It didn’t make sense to him. His love for him truly had no bounds. “Bill, I’m not the way you see me, I don’t deserve this, you deserve a nice boy!! A boy who isn’t possessed.” It didn’t make sense to Stanley. Bill could have anyone he wanted, he didn’t have to settle for companionship. He was tall, good looking, talented, had blue eyes and spoke french- why Bill was still there with him, slowly bleeding to death, didn’t make sense to Stanley at all. Bill was hurt that it didn’t make sense to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think I deserve perfect?” Bill asked, still no hint of malice in his voice, he was speaking as sweetly as ever. It was as if nothing had happened to him. Stanley’s voice was hurt and croaked. lYes. A thousand times yes, and I’m not that- I’m horrible. I’m the furthest thing from perfect. I’m the furthest thing from what you deserve.” Stanley admitted, and he hoped his words would finally sink in, although that would hurt, Stanley knew he deserved to be hurt. He deserved to have his demonically possessed heart ripped out of him, and to have Bill be as far away from him as possible, as his punishment, and as Bill’s safety insurance. Bill’s reply was spoken as quickly as his original question, not thinking twice as he said, “I have perfect, right here,” and grabbed Stanley tighter, pulling him closer to him. “No!! Richie and Eddie have figured out what I am, and when they find out what I’ve just done... they’re going to kill me. Or, they’ll call the police- and they’ll figure out I was behind every other attack, and they’ll kill me. I’ll get the death penalty. I need to be killed Bill. I want to be killed by you.” Stanley protested, and pleaded, letting Bill spin him around and dip him again, it was a nice distraction, but was a bit ineffective. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And as long as I’m here, no one is going to hurt you,” Bill reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I love you, Bill. I love you so much, me. I do. I don’t know what the demon inside of me is going to do, but, I love you, okay?” Bill sensed Stanley tense up underneath him, like he was going to move. “I’m going to die here, Stanley. Let me dance with the love of my life while I still can.” The thought wrenched his heart, and he felt overwhelmed because there was nothing he could do to stop it, there was nothing to clot a wound so deep with, especially since it was a severed artery. Stanley scrambled to say, “I’ll die too. I’ll... I’ll kill my self to be with you. Without you I’m nothing, I’ll have nothing. I’ll rot away in jail. We can be like Romeo and Juliette. Romeo and Romeo I guess.” Stanley laughed as he trailed off, trying to find a sad bit of dark humour if there was any at all. The humour was a small granule of sand in a large desert; it was insurmountable how terrible this whole thing was, so much so any amount of humour wouldn’t have made it any either. “Romeo and Homo. You’re homo.” Bill was touched by his statement, and looked very forward to seeing him in the afterlife. But he wanted to hear his laughter while he still could, rather than dwell on the fact he was on death’s doorstep and he had just rung his doorbell, and it was only a matter of time before he was invited inside. Stanley laughed begrudgingly, he didn’t deserve to laugh at such a terrible time. “Oh shut, those don’t even rhyme. I’m trying to be sweet while I still have the time.” and Bill was delighted to hear a small, split second of his laughter, and was saddened at the realization that this might be the last time he’d ever hear it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve given me a whole lifetime of sweetness my dear.” he said simply, and he was prepared to greet death as it was an old friend. If death was his price to pay, he’d gladly pay it if it meant one more second with the demon who owned and occupied his heart; as slowly failing as it now was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a terrible dancer,” Stanley laughed, glad Bill was still strong enough to lead him, and puppet him around to be somewhat decent. “Good enough for me,” Bill replied kindly, dipping him as Stanley grabbed onto him tightly. “You shouldn’t settle for good enough,” Stanley said, a bit more serious now. And Bill shook his head, and laughed, amused by his folly. “I’ve never once settled, when it comes to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie was bored out of his fucking mind, if he was being honest. This dance was awful, and he even had a date. A date who, was as far as Richie was concerned, was the best looking one there. Quite frankly, he thought he was the best looking one anywhere. Richie Tozier was in love with Eddie Kaspbrak, what could he say? Maybe it was because the music had stopped so the principle could give an announcement, or maybe it was because his thoughts were occupied by his friends, he missed them and was upset they weren’t here. And was upset he’d lost his two best friends in the world; because whatever Bill did, Stanley did. And vice versa. He was fuming angry with those two, but he still missed them more than anyone else in the world. Bev almost didn’t go because she thought she was too good to be there, but she came at the last minute and kept them company. Ben didn’t go out of fear of seeing Bev dance with someone else; oblivious to the fact a dance would be the perfect way to make the first move on her. And Mike didn’t go because if he couldn’t go with Bill, he didn’t want to go at all. And he was sure he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Stanley reap the rewards of Mike’s teachings to Bill; and be the one to get to dance with him for real. Richie was not enjoying himself tonight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, maybe it was because they were the only gay couple there and the entire congregation was staring at them like they didn’t belong; they were the odd ones out. And, Richie had never felt so odd in his life, especially while being gawked at by three hundred wide, judging pairs of eyes. Wait... they were the only gay couple there. That realization and all that it came with hit Richie like a punch in the stomach. “Where the fuck are Bill and Stanley? Have you seen them?” He asked Eddie, angrily and nervously. Eddie just shook his head no, and as he processed what that meant; his eyes widened with concern. “They said they’d be here... why aren’t they here?” Eddie asked gravely, and Richie had no idea either. “We need to go find them.” Richie said with unwavering necessity, even though he was nervous. Eddie agreed, and took his hand, and pulled him out of the dance hall, and into the woods, trying to follow the path they’d imagined Bill and Stanley trying to find. Looking for clues wherever they may be like the amateur detectives they were. Eddie led the way with just as much nervousness as Richie had, but with willing determination that made his feet move. They saw Bill’s corsage on the mulch covered ground, and feared for the worst. They heard a familiar sounding scream in the distance, “The pool... the building over there!!” Eddie yelled in terror, and thus they headed in the direction Eddie’s fear stricken, shaky finger pointed to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>quick rant ;; idk, in my humble opinion (i have the IQ of a goldfish so take this with a pinch of salt) but, if i see one more 1k daddy kink fic i am going to DIE. i don’t know, but, imo, it’s something that has to be worked up to and discussed. idk, kink needs more context in order to be an enjoyable reading experience, but, who am i to say anything about anything</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. ch. 8 𖤐 through the trees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>do you ever write a long ass fanfiction about a fucking clown movie and wonder what the hell youre doing with your life? cus same lmao. the actors who play the losers spent their teen years acting in movies, and i spend mine writing aus of the movies they were in! really makes you think</p>
<p>i hope you enjoyed it!! i’m sad to see it end. hopefully the ending didn’t suck?? i’m used to only writing oneshots so it felt weird to write something with a conclusive ending and beginning lol and plot? what???? i think i’ll stick to using sex as a plot device instead after this is done.</p>
<p>nah, just kidding, unfortunately for stenbrough nation: i have so many more fic ideas, so see u in another month i guess </p>
<p>also, if you haven’t noticed, each chapter gets its name a lyric from a song from the jennifer’s body soundtrack, WHICH ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SLAPS</p>
<p>ps, see if you can spot the dialogue from the actual movie in this chapter, i sprinkled it in every now and then</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❝𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.<br/>
𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.<br/>
𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰. ❞<br/>
𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇: 𝟓𝟖</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They tasted each other with desperation, wondering how many seconds they lad left with each other, and trying to make every one of them count. Thinking there was no better way to spend his final moments with his Stanley. Bill had long since accepted his fate, and was trying to make the most of whatever time he had. Bill’s hand travelled from his waist to his ass, gripping it tightly as they kissed. Stanley groaned into their kiss, and Bill used that opportunity to force his tongue deeper through Stanley’s parted lips. Stanley ran his hands even deeper into Bill’s auburn hair, raking his nails against his scalp as Bill continued to shamelessly grope him. And their kiss was interrupted by a very familiar voice in the very immediate distance. They parted out of fear of being caught in such a way, though their bloodstained clothing gave everything away. It might’ve even been the last kiss they had shared, if they hadn’t been interrupted by that familiar voice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could they not have chosen a worse place? This condemned building is a breeding ground for bacteria. You cannot make me go in there.” They heard Eddie say begrudgingly outside, and Richie groaned. “We have to, come on. I’ll help you up.” They both heard Richie reply. And Bill didn’t know wether he was happy to hear those two, or not. They both needed help, and Bill would be lying if he didn’t miss Richie and Eddie terribly; and Stanley would also be lying if he said he didn’t miss them either. But, he really didn’t want to hear Richie say ‘I told you so’ because, he did. And, it gave Bill no satisfaction to hear Richie say those words, even though for Richie there was no satisfaction greater. He’d only got the opportunity to tell Bill that about 3 times during their friendship, usually it was Bill who said ‘I told you so’; but more accurately it was either Stanley or Eddie, or sometimes both, saying that to the both of them. But also, Bill didn’t want to die in front of them, because in all honesty, there was nothing they could do, they couldn’t cure a severed artery even if they tried. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, maybe Bill didn’t want to see them, he hadn’t quite made his mind up. But, before he could- his mind was made up for him, because Richie emerged through the same rickety window they did. Richie helped Eddie up nearly as soon as his feet hit the chipped aquamarine tile with plants sprouting between the grouting. The pool separated the two couples, Bill holding Stanley tightly by his waist and Richie holding Eddie’s hand even tighter, they were on either side of it as they looked at each other, neither wanting to speak first and neither were sure what to say. The pool separated them but it felt like they were worlds away. Richie stared Bill up and down, and his magnified eyes immediately fixed on the red pooling from his neck and spilling and staining his clothes. Richie irrupted with anger, anger at Bill for not listening to him, anger at Stanley for not being able to control himself, and angry at himself for not doing enough to stop it all from happening. He shouldn’t have gotten mad at Bill, he should’ve tried harder- he felt like he failed him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, what the fuck is going on. Is it safe to say I told you so? Because I fucking told you so.” His voice trembled as he now started to, he was scared and so was Eddie; everyone in that room was scared. “Hey, Richie... uhh, you clean up nice.” Bill stammered, noticing Richie saw the giant gash in his neck, he tried to turn around. Stanley’s heart was beating at a mile a minute as he waited for Richie to say something; Richie’s gaze was crushing and Eddie looked so near tears it was a shock he wasn’t crying at that very moment. Richie saw Stanley’s tear stained cheeks and watery eyes, and how his eyelashes were darker and clumped together because he’d been crying; and felt no sympathy for him. As far as Richie was concerned this all could’ve been avoided if they’d just listened to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yah, I do. And you do too. Cut the shit, Denbrough. See what I fucking told you. Maybe I have something worthwhile to say every now and a-fucking-gain. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every now and again and weren’t so focused on your art student bull shit, you’d know that-“ Richie was on a tangent, and Eddie’s breath got heavier and heavier and the dam behind his eyes was about to explode. His lip quivered as he shrieked, “RICHIE!” trying to get his attention back on what mattered. He watched Bill’s condition worsen and worsen as blood spurted from his wound like water from a faucet, his skin was pale and getting more and more placid as the seconds ticked by. Everyone was looking at Eddie now, and his voice was more quiet, but no less chaotic as he spoke again “He’s going to die, do something!!! The books never said anything, what do I do???”  Eddie asked again, in a panic. Richie looked back at Eddie with a scared look in his eyes, his glasses were going a bit misty, as they always did when his breathing became erratic. His glasses were fogging up like a window in the winter, he was scared too, he was just trying to distract himself. It was easier to be mad at and berate Bill, rather than see his death as a foreseeable outcome. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had a long nonverbal conversation through stares as they tried to formulate a plan with their, now extensive, knowledge of succubi. And just as they were on the brink of something, they heard a sound, a loud thud. That thud, was the sound of Bill hitting the floor, in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss. The sound of the thud, and Stanley’s sobs echoed in the abandoned building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley crouched over him, and stroked his nearly colourless cheek with his thumb. His tears dropped from his eyes onto his nearly lifeless skin. Stanley felt so  defeated, he hated himself so terribly for letting the demon possessing him take such hold of him. And, he hated that Bill wasn’t mad at him. “Oh Bill...” Stanley whimpered, just as a shaky hand reached up to grab Stanley’s wrist as he continued to lovingly stroke his face. “Stan...” Bill’s voice was so groogy, and he had a smile blooming on his lips that felt so out of place, “If you’re gonna be the death of me, that’s exactly how I want to go,” and he fell back out of consciousness. Stanley cried even harder as he felt the muscles in his hand convulse ever so slightly as he held his wrist, before his grasp went even tighter. Bill came back again, each moment he was conscious was fleeting. His other hand went to stroke Stanley’s tears away with his thumb, their touches so tender it hurt them both. “These violent delights have violent end,” Bill quoted Shakespeare as Stanley cried over him, he wasn’t at all sure where he was going with this, neither of them were. Stanley just figured he wasn’t really making sense because of the blood loss for one thing, and also the blow to the head for the other. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And in their triumph die like fire in and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness. And in the taste confounds the appetite.” Bill continued, coughing up a bit of blood as he spoke. Stanley stayed silent except for his crying. “And you were the best delight I ever had. You are the sweetest honey, but were in no way ever loathsome.” He said as his eyes closed again, falling limp against Stanley’s touch. It was a tad hypocritical, to hear that quote come from Bill’s lips, to hear his voice say those words. Because he would never love Stanley moderately, and he’d never change the way he loved Stanley, even for a second. He left the next few lines out on purpose. If Richie wasn’t a dangerous combination of fear, anger and adrenalin; he would have probably made fake gagging sounds. But, he was too mad, and had far too many points to prove; and he knew something childish like that would undercut them. For once, Richie Tozier was thinking clearly; who knew it would’ve taken a demonic possession or two to get his priorities in order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cmon, mushmouth. This isn’t how it’s going to end.” Richie said, definitively. He’d refuse that outcome, he’d refuse it as long as he could. He didn’t like all this pressure on him; if this is how being the leader of the losers felt, he was more than happy to give the position back to Bill once things were back to normal.</p>
<p>... if they went back to normal. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> “I’m gonna be fucking sick. I’m not going to let my best friend kill my other best friend without a fight.” Richie yelled again from across the room, and Stanley looked over at him, enraged as tears still fell from his eyes like rain falling from the sky. “What am I supposed to do?” He spat, and was a bit relieved Richie still considered them both his best friends, it was strangely reassuring. For the first time in his life, Richie thought on his feet quickly. An idea suddenly came to him. “You have to bite him.” Richie replied quickly, and Stanley and Eddie both gave him the same look, shocked confusion. “What?” Stanley asked, he couldn’t believe his ears, it made no sense to him, that seemed counter productive. Plus, biting him had got him into this mess that night, not to be confused with his other mess, he didn’t think it could get them out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like, bite him for real. Stanley, remember at my house, the night of... your turning. When you healed your arms like, miraculously and shit? Well if Bill’s a succubus too, he can do that regeneration shit.” Richie told him without question, trying to explain it so he’d so it. Stanley still didn’t look at all convinced, his mouth just went even more agape, and his eyes looking more and more fearful. He did also look more and more guilty, which Richie was glad to see. “I think you severed an artery Stanley, he’ll die if you don’t.” Eddie interjected, trying to convince him even further. Eddie’s stamp of approval seemed to change Stanley’s expression a bit, which Richie was thankful for. He would’ve gotten offended that Stanley trusted Eddie’s judgement more than his, but, honestly, after everything- he not only understood, but also sort of agreed. “Sink your teeth in, thats the only other way to turn someone. It doesn’t work if you take a chunk out, bite to turn, not to taste.” Richie instructed, and something about that made Stanley feel even worse if that as at all possible. As soon as he reached a new emotional low, he sunk even lower- Stanley hated existing. Everything seemed so much more real, he wanted nothing more than to disappear, let his guilt consume him until he just ceased to exist. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No! I won’t, I don’t want him to live like this!” He couldn’t put this lifestyle on Bill. Stanley would rather die than live this way, to be totally dependant on lust and fear and blood. He was like a vampire from hell, but worse! He hated it. He couldn’t put Bill through that. And that response made Richie’s blood boil. “Well you didn’t want him to live at all when you bit him...” Richie reminded sarcastically, enunciating his point with his hands. Eddie and Stanley knew this was bad; talking with his hands meant Richie was fuming. “No!!! Something came over my body, it wasn’t me who did that- I can’t, I won’t do this!” Stanley repeated, but his stance wasn’t as concrete and set in stone as it had been before. His tone was wavering and his voice was faltering, he was on the cusp of doing it- he just needed a bit more convincing. Eddie and Stanley locked eyes, and Eddie spoke with all the sincerity he could muster in his equally wavering voice. “It’s the only choice we have, fucking turn him, and we’ll figure the rest out. We’ll somehow turn you both back... somehow.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And suddenly, Stanley understood this had to be done. He didn’t know how to do this. He turned to the other side of Bill’s neck, and moved his head softly to allow himself more access. He supposed he’d do it how vampires did it? He wasn’t sure, it’s not like they wrote handbooks on this type of thing. “This... this is going to hurt.” Stanley warned Bill even though he wasn’t conscious to hear him, he felt he owed him that much. Just as Bill thought he owed Stanley the opportunity to tell him his secret without him prompting it or bringing it up. He couldn’t explain it, it would just feel remiss if he didn’t say it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as his teeth breached the threshold of his skin, Bill’s eyes shot open. He screamed in agony, but Stanley saw the gash Bill’s neck start to heal over, so through deep regret, he continued. He hated this more than anything in the world, he hated the fact he was causing him so much pain. But, he had to do this, he’d rather see him in pain than see him dead. “Bill!! How do you feel?” Eddie asked Bill, praying for good news. Bill’s wound was completely healed over now, so Stanley eased his bite, and got off of his neck. “Better, but, fuck, I think I’m going to be sick!” He yelled as he kissed Stanley’s cheek as he scrambled to his feet, and ran over to the side of the pool. Reluctantly, he stuck his head over the side, making the wafting smell of mildew and still water even more prominent as he threw up. It was the same black, pointy sludge that Stanley threw up when he turned; and he had so much pity for him it was starting to be overwhelming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I remember reading that getting bit by a succubus, only makes you like... half a succubus. So hopefully, it’ll be half the work to change him back.” Eddie told all of them, and Stanley felt a smile tug at his lips, he was so happy that Bill would never know the full extent of what it was to be so... evil. Bill deserved that. That smile made Richie so mad, “Hey, wipe that smile off your face. This is your fault!” Richie yelled from the other end of the pool, his point was a bit undercut by the sounds of Bill coughing up tasteless black vomit with the consistency of broken glass. Richie’s words, in turn made Stanley angry. “Don’t talk to him, -cough- like that!” Bill spoke through coughs and hacks, still bent over the side of the pool, trying to cope with all these new feelings. If this was how Stanley had been going through life feeling since September, he just loved him so much more, and had so much respect for him. He didn’t want to feel this way for one more second, let alone months, he had no idea how he did this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, stop defending him! He’s ruined your life, twice. And leaves us all with a huge ass mess to clean up. It’s selfish, I have no idea what happened to the Stanley Uris I knew.” and something came over Stanley at the sound of his words. He was hurt beyond words, and sad beyond belief. He levitated over the pool, and moved inches in front of Richie and Eddie. “H-He can fly?” Eddie asked, meekly. Richie scoffed, “He’s just flying. It’s, it’s not that impressive.” and that set him off in a way he hadn’t been before. That was the last straw for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley hit the ground gracefully, a few feet away now. “I can never be good at anything? I can never just have something, be something, other than your jewish friend with OCD? Am I just the punchline of a joke to you? Do you have to undermine everything that I do?” He spoke with such anger, it was honestly starting to scare both Eddie and Richie. “If I hear one more ‘two jews walk into a bar...’ jokes I’m going to lose my mind.” Stanley continued, angrier. Richie would be lying if his words didn’t hit home and make him feel immense guilt, but, now was not the time to unpack those issues. They were scared. If he could somehow snap and hurt Bill, who knows what he could do to them. Richie and Eddie looked at each other, and Eddie spoke, shaking like a leaf and fear was obvious in his voice. “Y-You’re a jerk,” was all Eddie could say. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their new strategy was to try and hurt his feelings. An injury to the heart would kill the demon in the succubus. The book was obviously referring to stabbing the possessed through the chest, but there was no way they were going to stab Stanley. Plus, that would be impossible anyways, since he could fight them off with ease. If he could fly, he could beat them in a fight any day given his current abilities. They hoped a metaphorical injury to the heart, a broken heart, would suffice. “Wow! Nice insult, DJ Tanner, got any more harsh digs?” Stanley replied sarcastically, strutting over to them, inch by inch, it made their hearts beat nearly out of their chest. Richie was stammering for ideas now completely unsure of what to do now. None of what they were doing, is saying was working, he had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, he really, really hoped this hadn’t come to this. This was a last stitch effort, he thought something else would’ve worked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Through gritted teeth and baited breath, in a hushed tone he said, “Shut the fuck up, you stupid fucking kike.” He hated himself as the words left his lips. He was going to apologize a million times over for it, as soon as everything was back to normal. This was for “Stanley’s own good”, he told himself, “It’s just to turn him back into a human, this will hurt his feelings, and it’ll kill the demon possessing him. He’ll understand when he turns back, he’ll accept my apology and everything will be good again.” He waited for a look of hurt to appear on Stanley’s face, but, it didn’t. He just looked angry and betrayed; because that was the one word Stanley had told him was off limits. He could say whatever else he wanted, but that word was the one word he could never say, because that was the word that stung the most. That word never got easier to hear for Stanley. He could remember Henry Bowers calling him on the playground for the very first time, and asking his parents what it meant- which resulted in many, long and difficult conversations from his parents as they explained what it meant, and the true meaning of that word. </p>
<p>He remembered the look on his fathers face when he got a phone call from the local police, that someone had been caught spray painting it over the main entrance doors of their Temple. That day was nearly 10 years ago, but he could remember it as if it was yesterday, the big, red spray painted levels still stuck with him. Stanley had heard many things because of his faith; had been called many things because of his faith. He’d been the subject of countless jokes because of his faith; and not just the playful ones Richie made. And he’d rather hear all of them over and over, than be called that word. He told Richie how much that word hurt, and he trusted Richie to never say it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie saw first hand how much it hurt him. Richie felt awful betraying that trust. “I am going to eat your soul... AND SHIT IT OUT, TOZIER.” Stanley yelled, no one in that room had ever seen Stanley that mad before. It was a level of rage only possible in demons. Stanley was even scaring himself. Bill watched in horror from the other side, still recuperating so he couldn’t move to the other side. And, he was also paralyzed by a new fear, he was so terrified for Stanley, not of him. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him, what was going to happen to himself as well. Were they going to be forced to go on the run together or something, feeding off of flesh with each other to survive? He was so confused, so concerned and so scared. He watched as his best friends and Stanley fought across from him. He obviously would take Stanley’s side through thick and thin, through anything really, but he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Richie quickly thought of a plan, that was sure to hurt Stanley more than words ever could. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” He shouted as he pulled his neckless out from under his clothes, revealing the beach glass on the chain that they’d had since they were so young. It touched Stanley deeply that he still had it, even after all these years, even after all they’d been through. Richie’s love for Stanley was just as unconditional as Bill’s was, just in a platonic way. That’s why he detested it so much, because he saw himself in Bill in that aspect. Stanley stopped dead in his tracks, and pulled his from underneath his close immediately, the limited light caught it, and the faint shimmers danced on the wall beside him. Stanley looked at him with confusion, he was still angry, but now he was a bit confused too. Eddie felt bad as he watched Stanley, he wondered how many emotions he could feel in one night before he’d explode. He hoped Stanley wouldn’t explode, especially in a disgusting place like this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not friends with people like you- things like you. You aren’t a fucking person anymore. You’re just a fucking monster.” Richie spat, wanting to punch himself in the face, he couldn’t believe he had it in him to be so hurtful. When he was sure Stanley was watching, he tugged on the chain around his neck in a swift motion. It bounced slightly on the ground as it fell on the ground, the glass shattering into pieces as it hit the surface.  Stanley watched in complete silence, his eyes going so wide as he watched with baited breath as the pieces broke. Stanley clutched at his chest, as he fell to his knees, sniffling as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He winced in a pain that wasn’t there, emotional agony. Richie felt tears tug at his own eyes at the visual, he wished he hadn’t done that, but he knew he had to. </p>
<p>“Well, to kill the succubus within the demon, you must cause a major wound to the heart. So, he’s one half of a succubus now. The demon is dead, now we just have to get it out of him.” Eddie told him, explaining their harsh comments towards Stanley, and Richie nodded, only half listening. “Fuck, well. Um, that’s gonna be a hell of a lot of work- no pun intended. Call the others, especially Ben. He’s smart, he’ll know what to do.” Richie spoke, still distraught over the breaking of the necklace, it felt weird to not wear something he’d never taken off since he was a little kid. He hoped to god that the beach glass and broken chain on the ground wasn’t a sick little metaphor for something. “Get this fucking demon out of me,” Stanley whimpered, and Eddie looked at Richie, and then looked at him. “Of course, Stan, I promise. We don’t leave here until we fix this.” Eddie reassured him, forcing a smile to hopefully convince him even more. And, that meant a lot, because Eddie wanted to get out of there as soon as possible- and he was very sure that this would take a long time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took the other losers awhile, especially because Eddie had to run to the school to use their phone, and first come up with an excuse to use their phone- to call Ben and Mike, and also he had to find Beverly to bring her, and then come back. But, they eventually came. First, obviously, was Eddie returning with Beverly. “So, you boys got yourselves in quite a mess huh?” Beverly asked with a hint of sarcasm as she laughed, which was honestly deserved. She looked at the mess that waited her as Eddie helped her through that same window, stepping through with care so her dress wouldn’t get ripped. She looked at Richie, who was lost in thought as he was kicking around a piece of broken off tile on the ground, not wanting to look any of them in the eye. And, she looked at Stanley and Bill, who were cuddling in a corner, both just happy that Bill was still alive. Beverly scoffed at the silence, sure things were grim but they could’ve at least said hi to her. “Hi guys.” She said, and laughed as they all quickly yelled their greetings to her. “No need to catch me up to speed, Eddie already did. Bill’s a demon too know, and Richie said something he owes Stanley an apology now. The first is new, but, the second happens like every day so I think we’re okay. What do you guys need me to do?” She asked, and Richie forced himself to laugh. “Um, we’re not really sure ourselves. We still have no plan, hopefully Mikey and Ben have something in those empty heads of theirs, because we have nothing.” Richie replied, and as if right on some sort of cue, Mike and Ben came through the window as well. “Bill!!” Mike exclaimed, so happy to see that he was fine, he had worried the entire way there. He then realized how that sounded, and stammered as he tried to save face, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And, Richie! Eddie! Ben! Bev! and, Stanley!” He said, trying to repeat the same excitement as he had before, but it was clearly fake. Stanley felt awkward, and every one else caught on to the faux excitement, but of course, Bill didn’t. He smiled, and waved at him, before turning his head back to Stanley, kissing below his ear, happy to be alive. And, strangely, he didn’t mind being a demon, or rather, possessed by one. Because he meant that he was that much closer to Stanley, and being able to experience what he experienced made him feel so much more connected to him in a weird way. Stanley felt a tinge of guilt for Mike, and felt a bit sorry for him- but, he couldn’t help but meet his gaze as he looked at them in discontent. Ben came through the door next, struggling as he did so because of all of the things in his arms. “Fuck, haystack- you brought an entirely library with you!” Richie snickered as Ben joined them, and Ben nodded his head and laughed. “Yah, I come prepared, my friends need me, it’s nice for at least one person here to think ahead,” he replied and everyone laughed because it was true, though that was hard to admit. “So, you brought books, a cross, and... a horn?” Bev asked, squinting her eyes as she tried to make out what it was. Ben blushed, and thus tried to hide that blush, when he felt Bev’s gaze on him. “No, I just have, a crucifix, some candles, a lighter to light the candles, a bible, a torah, and a-“ He was about to answer, when Stanley’s strained voice interrupted him, so strained because he had done a lot of yelling, and a lot of crying that night, and thus it’s raspiness. “-a Shofar. It’s a ram’s horn, it’s used in Judaism. And, usually only Rabbi’s have it for Synagogue use... where’d you get one?” and Ben’s eyes went wide, “Um... broke into your dad’s office, don’t be mad?” He offered a toothy smile as an apology, with Stanley accepted with a laugh. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley didn’t understand how the fuck he did that, but given the circumstances- he was just glad he did that. “Ben, given the circumstances- you can do whatever you want. You really did your research, thank you.” And Ben thanked him for the thanks.  “So, since Bill’s catholic, and Stan the Man’s jewish, we have to do two exorcisms? We aren’t even qualified to do one-“ Eddie rambled, to which everyone snickered at. “Eds, we weren’t qualified to kill a fucking clown when we were like, babies. So what does it matter we aren’t qualified, we can do anything we set our mind to!” Richie exclaimed. “Thanks for the motivation, Father Tozier.” Bill joked. “Yah, yah, yah. Quit bickering you guys, we have two demons to extinguish, unfortunately.” Ben reminded. “You mean relinquish. Extinguish implies that something is burning,” Stanley corrected. “No position to critique grammar, Stanley the Manley. And there’s fire in hell, demons are in hell- so it all evens out.” Richie said, and Stanley said nothing back because he was still upset with him, and awaiting his apology. “Why when there’s something going wrong, or there’s a demon in town... it always somehow always falls back unto us?” Mike asked rhetorically, changing the subject, And honestly, all of the rest of the losers could not agree more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The gang had had many, many, many happy memories. So many, it would be hard to pick a favourite. If you had to ask Stanley, that would be a tough question. But, his definite favourite would’ve probably been the party Bev threw just because she had the apartment all to herself because coincidentally her parents both had to work that night. Because, if it hadn’t been for that party, they wouldn’t have been at her house, and they wouldn’t have been in her living room playing spin the bottle seven minutes in heaven. And Bill wouldn’t have spun it, and he wouldn’t have gotten Stanley, and they wouldn’t have played their own version; 23 minutes in heaven. Those twenty three minutes were filled with an awkward love confession, Bill’s first kiss with a guy (aka his first kiss with anyone other than Beverly; his second ever kiss) Stanley’s first kiss in general, and subsequently, the first handjob Stanley had ever received. The rest of the losers had obviously caught on to what had happened; and had accepted him, and their relationship wholeheartedly. Stanley was still in the closet before that night, so it felt amazing and so freeing to be so accepted by the most important people in his life. Who knew, kissing another boy in the closet, would lead to him coming out of the closet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Naturally, that was also Bill’s favourite memory as well. It felt like he had waited for that moment his entire life; and it was as if his whole life started over the moment he first kissed him. If you asked Mike, his favourite memory was easy. Hands down, it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on them, when he was being chased by bullies and they defended him, it was the first time he felt at home, it was the first time he felt like he had true friends. And, despite their temporary falling out, Richie still considered the time he and Bill drove up to Montreal with fake ids, and snuck into a bar to see their favourite band Pansy Division to he his favourite memory.  They nearly hit a deer on the freeway coming back to Maine, and Richie had to bribe a cop to not arrest him when he failed a breathalyzer test. Which, resulted in a phrase commonly used in their friend group. “All cops are bastards, (ACAB), but, the cop that accepted Richie’s 30$ was okayish.” The trip was chaotic and dangerous, but fun- 3 words to describe their friendship perfectly. That whole experience well encompassed their friendship, and summed it up pretty nicely. And, that was before the band became big, Richie would tell anyone who would listen to his babbling. And, though Bill didn’t admit it, that was his second favourite memory, very close to being his first, but not quite there. The only reason Eddie and Richie’s favourite memories werent couple related, was because their couple origin story wasn’t at a group function. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie’s favourite memory of all time was a three way tie between, you guessed it, three memories. The time Richie planned a surprise party for his 16th birthday, the first day of high school they all shared together, and the time Richie drove into the Uris’ garage when they drove Stanley home from school- Eddie would testify to this day that that was the funniest thing to ever happen, ever. Bev had the same predicament, she had a few favourites that stuck out in her mind. She had more of a memory hall of fame in her mind, rather than a tiered list. Lately, one she treasured and held the dearest, was from the halloween they shared back when Ghostbusters first came out. Seeing Ghostbusters in theatres was one of the first things they all did together. That halloween, they tried to make their ghostbusters group coordinated costumes include the 7 of them. It was a mess, in the best way possible. And, it started the long standing tradition of big group costumes every year on halloween. Finding a theme that accommodated 7 people was hard, but, they managed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, if you asked Ben, he’d say all the little things were his favourite memories, all of the insignificant and numerous sleepovers that were all so great that not one of them stuck out, all the inside jokes, and even all the hardships. Because everything they went through, good and bad, brought them closer together. Ben loved all of his friends very much, and could find something to treasure in every moment with them. With all of that being said, they had many great memories. But also, some horrible memories anyone their age couldn’t even begin to empathize with, or even comprehend. Their least favourite, would have to either be when they went out into the sewers, a story too painful to recount or relive, but their second least favourite, had to be this one- and it was a very, very, very close second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, they had a plan now at least. All that they had to do now, was decide who was going to have the exorcism done to them first. “Which one is going first?” Ben asked as he set down some of the things he was still carrying. They all walked over to the corner that Stanley and Bill were curled up in together. Stanley smiled, and looked at Bill, and answered without a single doubt or ounce of apprehension, “Bill can go first,” He told them, happily, but looked at Bill as though he was the only one there. Bill smiled, and kissed the tip of his nose, “No, Stanley can” he replied, and Stanley, in turn pressed their foreheads together, getting as close as they possibly could. “No, Bill can go first-“ Stanley insisted, his tone a bit more decadently flirty. Richie, who sensed that they could do this all night, and that this was probably going to go on all night- and also because he could see Bill start to tilt his head to kiss him, interrupted them. “Alright happy couple, just make a choice.” Richie told them, and Stanley just scoffed. “Bill can. You guys are gonna murder the hebrew, so I can wait for that-“ and Richie spoke up again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’d know a lot about murder huh?” and Bill looked mad, and got offended on his boyfriend’s behalf. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Eddie spoke up instead. “Beep beep, Richie. Now is not the time.” He said as a kind of a warning, a warning for what, they weren’t sure. “-Plus isn’t it kind of Richie’s fault anyways?” Ben rushed to fill the gap in conversation, speaking with no malice or ill intent, he was just voicing his thoughts. Richie answered, a scowl blooming on his face. “Beep beep, Haystack. Wow, that felt great... I can see why you guys say it so much.” making himself laugh along the way. “And don’t make us say it again, either way- no matter who goes first, we don’t know if this will work so. Don’t get your hopes up, alright?” Eddie reminded Bill, they locked eyes. Soft compassionate brown met hopeful blue, and they smiled at each other, it was an intimate moment although they were surrounded by people. They were each other’s first ever friend, and they’d gone through so much together, and had helped each other face so much. “Hopes haven’t left the ground. Thank you guys.” He held Stanley’s hand in his, and rubbed soft patterns into his skin with the pad of his thumb. They all said that it was no problem, and they meant it. They’d do it for any member of their group, and, although they weren’t prepared, they’d be willing to do this a thousand times over. Facing demons was basically an after school hobby for them at this point. Beverly voiced the concerns of the whole group in a semi sarcastic way, though the message still remained true, “Alright so, how the fuck do we do a Catholic exorcism?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben opened up a notebook in his arms, and anxiously flipped through the pages of notes he messily took. Never in a million years would he have thought he’d have a beginners guide to preforming exorcisms in his notebook; and never in like, a hundred years did he think he’d need to preform an exorcism. The odds of doing that were a lot higher, because, in truth, you never really knew what you were going to do in this friend group. “Ok, so, step one, make a circle around Bill.” He directed, and they did as they were told. “What do you want me to do? Sorry, as you guys probably know, I’ve never been to Church so- what do I do?” Stanley asked, and the gang laughed. “I don’t think the exorcism would even work if you participated, considering you’re possessed to and all, so, just sit over there, maybe?” Eddie suggested, gesturing absently out of their circle, and Stanley happily accepted. He wanted to help Bill, and he’d do anything to help him; but, it was a perfect set of circumstances if not doing anything would actually be helpful. Being apart of something catholic made him a tad bit uncomfortable. It was weird to be all huddled over Bill Zachary ‘Big Bill’ Denbrough, their fearless leader, who never accepted help from anyone. It was weird, usually he didn’t let anyone help him, barely even Stanley. It wasn’t in his nature. This was just a testimate to the circumstances they were under- it literally turned their worlds upside down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever we face, we face together,” Bill said, feeling a responsibility to take the lead, feeling more and more uncomfortable to be getting help from getting this much help. And also, he couldn’t fight the feeling that everyone having to look down at him, as he was the only one sitting while they were standing, was a metaphor for something. “Fuck, two exorcisms in one night. How the fuck did we get wrapped up in this shit?” Richie asked rhetorically, not looking for an answer from anyone. “I don’t know, but if any more demons show up... I vote, that as a group, we move and get the fuck out of Derry.” Beverly replied, getting a few scarce laughs from some of the losers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guys, heads in the game, come on. Ben, what’s the next step?” Eddie asked, getting the groups focus back. Ben nodded, and scanned down the page. “Step two: Bill, you need to hold this rosary, and I need to hold a cross.” Ben said, holding a cross in his other hand, and giving Bill a rosary to put around his neck. It hurt to hold a rosary, and the cross in Ben’s hand hurt his eyes to look at, it was blinding, Bill had no idea how it was reflecting so much light. “Wait- Bill, are you even catholic?” Beverly asked, the thought occurring to her right at that moment. She looked at him with a genuine puzzled, scrunched expression; which quickly formed on everyone’s faces as well. Eddie nodded, agreeing in her inquiry. “Yah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at church, or heard you talk about church.” He agreed, and their questioning was actually getting to Bill, he himself was a bit skeptical now. “I don’t see you at church either dumbass. Well, Church isn’t really a fun conversation topic. But, um- no, I’m catholic. I’m pretty sure I was baptized.” Richie laughed in sheer disbelief in what he had said, he thought nothing about the scenario could shock him anymore, and yet there he was, struck with folly. “Wait- you’re pretty sure?” He asked, and Bill was confused with his tone. It was like he was annoyed and amused all at once. “What’s the big deal?” Bill asked, “Oh, no reason. I’ll go and get brain surgery from a guy who’s pretty sure he went to medical school!” Richie replied, getting a laugh from everyone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill was about to say something about how those two scenarios weren’t the same thing, but Mike beat him to it, and filled the conversationless air before he could get the chance. “There’s a crucifix in your living room. You’re catholic. Either way, let’s just try this, for your sake.” Mike tried to reason, they all agreed, and almost all, Bill was still oblivious, thought it was kind of cute how much he cared, and the attention to detail he paid to him. “Okay, so, step three.” Ben brought the conversation back to its original point. He continued once he regained their attention, “This actually looks pretty easy. I’m going to repeat some things, and you all have to repeat everything I say, okay? And I’m going to spritz holy water on you. It sounds a tad cliche, but the books really do say it works.” Everyone nodded, and Bill was so excited for this to finally happen, every second that ticked by felt like a millennia. He met Stanley’s eyes, and saw nothing but love looking back, he was so happy for him, and, was really excited for the same thing to happen to him. This nightmare was finally going to be over for both of them; for all of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dear God, heavenly father, help us vanquish evil.” Ben commanded, and the rest of the group repeated it. Bill was a bit freaked out, this all felt a bit too cultish for his taste. “Was this what Church is like?” Bill thought to himself as they spoke. “Dear God, save our friend. Save our friend William Denbrough from harm, protect him from evil, and save him from Satan. Or lord, we pray to you and only you. The one true God, the one true saviour.” Ben commanded again, and they repeated that as well. Bill could swore he was starting to feel something, but he wasn’t sure. This could’ve been a placebo or something, he knew about placebos all too well because of Eddie. Ben raised the cross in his hand, and opened the little glass vile of holy water; Bill couldn’t help but silently wonder how Ben got all of this shit, especially on such short notice. Nevertheless, he was thankful he somehow did. He flicked some holy water at him with every sentence he chanted. “May the power of Christ compell you! May the power of Christ compell you! May the power of Christ compell you!!” Ben chanted, flicking holy water at him straight from the vile. Miraculously, it worked. Just as Stanley had creepily started levitating a few inches off of the ground when he was possessed, Bill did the same thing when he got depossessed. He levitated for a few moments, and his friends swore they saw a faint grey puff of smoke leave his body, and fizzle out into the air. They were very careful to breathe in for a few moments, just in case. And just as soon as he had left the ground, the force making his body do so relinquished its hold on him, slamming him back down to the ground. “Fuck!” He cursed as his back hit the ground, but, a sore back felt like heaven in comparison than being possessed by a demon from hell. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you feel?” Stanley asked nervously, too afraid to look over, just in case. He wasn’t sure what could’ve happened, but, his mind still could wander and could race. Maybe he’d combusted into flames, or maybe nothing had happened, killing Bill’s and his hope in the process; or maybe all of that happened all at once. Either way, Stanley was afraid. “I feel, great. I feel, strangely whole again? I cant explain it, it feels so good. Kind of sucks that I couldn’t get a chance to fly though.” He answered with a soft laugh. Bill looked at Stanley from outside of the crowd of people around himself still, “I don’t know how you could have done that for so long...” He said. “I don’t know either, but, maybe we can hurry things up so I don’t have to think about it?” He replied, and the group let out a quieted snicker, trying to find any humour possible in this macabre situation. Ben scrambled to turn the page of his book, and put down his holy water and crucifix as those two items were no longer needed. “Sorry- yah, let’s get yours started too.” So, Bill and Stanley switched places, and Bill took his place in the circle that once surrounded him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben knew that Stanley knew what was going to happen, obviously. He knew that Stanley knew better than he did, because his extensive research wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to lived experience. But, he knew the rest of the losers didn’t have either; research (in terms of Judaic exorcism practices) or lived experience. So, Ben felt the need to explain, and also could feel their confused stares as he held his stolen shofar and chumash. Though in this case, he much preferred the term ‘borrowed’ since he did have every intention of bringing them back. “See, I almost have everything. There was a book I wish I could’ve gotten my hands on. In my readings, it mentioned a book called the Minchat Yahuda a lot. It listed it as a source quite a bit. It’s a book by a rabbi named Yehuda Fetaya, if I remember correctly. The book dealt extensively with exorcisms; I don’t have it, but, I think we’ll do okay without it. It was sourced enough in other materials... I think I got the just of it,” Ben explained, Stanley was really the only one who was following, he saw his eyes widen a bit with concern as Ben got to the end of his ramble. Ben had avoided meeting his gaze while he was speaking, just in case Stanley was giving him the side eye when he was trying to pronounce the title of the book and it’s author, since he no doubt didn’t pronounce it properly. Ben didn’t, but Stan was in no position to pass judgement. That position being, lying on a floor of an abandoned pool house about to have an exorcism preformed on him by his childhood best friends, and boyfriend. Ben’s explanation didn’t seem to do anything for them, in fact, judging by the looks on their faces, it posed more questions that it answered. The losers were a bit lost, to say the least. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you telling us all of this?” Richie asked, his tone was a bit short, he often got like that when he was confused. And Ben wasn’t quite sure, perhaps it was a disclaimer or warning just in case the exorcism didn’t go to plan because they were missing information that lay in the pages of the book they didn’t have. Or, a preemptive apology for the same reason. Or, maybe it was a stalling tactic so Ben didn’t have to lead an exorcism in a religion that he wasn’t well versed in, nor was he a member of. And to be frank, it was a combination of all 3 of those. “To be able to tell you- I don’t have that book.” Ben said simply, and that didn’t do anything to answer question or ease growing worries. He mentally kicked himself for unnecessarily raising tensions that were already at the height of the empire state building. He wondered how Bill could be the leader all the time, he didn’t like all this pressure. He wished Bill was doing this right now, not him. It felt weird to have all these eyes on him, to have them all hang onto his every word as if the consequences for not doing so were dire; because they were. Every baited breath was on him, and they all seemed to get even more nervous with every pause of words. He really wished Bill was leading this meeting now. He wondered how he wasn’t crushed by the wait of all of this pressure, Ben felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Atlas had nothing on him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh no- is that... is that a problem?” Eddie asked, voice shaking feebly though it was very apparent he was trying to suppress that. He didn’t want his fear to materialize in symptoms like that, it became more real when it did that. Richie gripped at his hand harder to try to calm Eddie down, he hated to hear him like that. And that was also an effort to calm himself down as well, perhaps even more so. He didn’t admit that to himself; whatever helped him sleep at night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley interrupted, “No, it’s more so just his recounting of things... things that don’t really pertain to this situation. And, things you wouldn’t be interested in or really frankly even care about.” speaking in the way he always did, and in words that went over his friend’s head. He enjoyed speaking like that. It didn’t give him an inflated self worth, or a level of selfassigned importance by any means- as Richie always silently thought that it did. Speaking in such a way really only impressed Bill anymore. Speaking intelligently made Stanley feel that he had control over a situation, it made him feel that he was more levelheaded. It made him feel hope was on the horizon, woven in its metaphorical marigold and yellow colours. Hope could be on the horizon because if he spoke with a logical candour, it meant that he could think of a way out. It reassured him that all problems had solutions; it helped to think of life with the simplicity he thought mathematics had. Every problem, to an extent, had a concrete solution, everything was solvable. He really, really, REALLY, hoped this could be, as well. They all stared at Stanley for a minute, to take in what he said as well. “In other words, we don’t need it.” Beverly smiled, and Stanley smiled back. “Yah, pretty much.” He agreed, and Ben wished he could’ve said it as simply as that. “So, what do we need?” Mike asked, a bit confused but, nowhere near as lost as before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The shofar and the torah.” Ben replied, a bit more confidently because that question had a simple, binary answer. No way to confuse anyone, and, though he didn’t really like things were being redirected to the topic at hand, he liked the distractions because it meant putting it off. Stanley had been possessed and turned into a succubus, which was much different than getting bitten by a succubus. Plus, he had been one for much longer, he had no idea wether he would be able to preform this successful. Stanley interrupted him, again. “-Well, in this case it isn’t the torah because it isn’t in scroll form. The Chumash is the printed form.” He corrected, and everyone just kind of... looked at him, and wondered wether that really needed to be said. Stanley could read their minds through the expressions on their faces, and tried to reason with them, “What it had to be said!” and Richie scoffed in a playful way, a way only he could be. In a way that was endearing and annoying; the very essence of Richie. “Did it really??” Richie asked, in that same mocking and playful tone. Ben joined in with that line of questioning, “... and thought you said you wanted to get this over with?” Ben reminded, achieving a short lived laugh from the group, a faint exhale of laughter, more than anything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yah... sorry...” Stanley apologized, and stayed silent for the time being, and decided it was best to just listen for awhile, since he was why they were all here in the first place. He couldn’t help it! It felt nice to correct people. “So, whats the plan for Stan the man?” Richie spoke again, proud of his rhyming. “Well,” Ben began to answer, but stopped suddenly. It was overwhelming again, to have so many intense eyes on him at once. Where did he even begin, words struggled to come to him for a moment, but, he found them eventually. He pressed on, and continued. His voice only slightly faltering, which was an accomplishment he was proud of, given the stage of things. It was more than most in the group could say anyways. “We have to say Psalm 91 three times. I’m sure you all are familiar with what Psalms are.” Ben replied, and the group nodded. “Does that need to be said in hebrew or english?” Mike asked, eyes taking a break from Ben and darting back every now and again to Bill, who was standing directly across from him, next to Beverly on his left and Eddie on his right. He wished he could’ve been next to him, he treasured little coincidences like that. Little blips to Bill, were held onto memories to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben answered immediately, he was prepared for that question. In fact, he had it at first himself. “Although I feel bad for depriving Stanley of that laugh opportunity, because I’m sure us mispronouncing hebrew would you laugh, and cringe to no end- english or hebrew is fine. So, for simplicity’s sake, english- obviously.” The group laughed a bit, the ghost of a chuckle- more accurately. And also breathed a mutual sigh of relief, this just got a bit easier. When Ben assumed collective knowledge, he spoke a bit too soon. “Wait, what are Psalms?” Eddie asked, a bit sheepishly. He was a bit embarrassed to be the only one out of the loop, if he was being honest. Bill sneered and looked down to the boy next to him. “I thought you knew everything about church, Father Kaspbrak.” He asked, referencing their previous banter. Eddie sneered, and mumbled something along the lines of: “Go fuck yourself,”. Stanard, mindless ad lib. They playfully shoved each other, and laughed. Neither of them meant anything by it; they were best friends after all. “They’re like... passages in the bible, the new testament for catholics, the Torah for jews.” Ben explained, very aware Eddie was only half listening by now. “It’s in the Sefer Tehillim.” Stanley explained further. Ben continued with the instructions, though he really didn’t want to. Because explaining it, meant having to do it later. “We’re also going to need a Minyan?” Ben asked with wavering surety, he was sure of what he was saying, but wasn’t sure if he was saying it correctly. He looked over to Stan, who gave him an encouraging nod, his visual stamp of approval. The rest of the group shared a look of confusion again, and Ben was reminded yet again: Stan was the only person in that room who also knew what he was talking about. “It’s a group of ten adult males.” Ben explained, and the group let out a collective, “Ohhhh” at the exact same time, so much so you’d be convinced it was choreographed or in some way rehearsed if you were in the room with them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though, something about that didn’t sit right with Bill, he voiced his realization and his concern. “We don’t have that...” He thought out loud, seemingly as soon as the thought came to him. He had been mostly silent during this exchange, he didn’t want to possibly say the wrong thing and make Stanley feel scared, or unsure, or any kind of unpleasant emotion. That was always the last thing he wanted to do, especially during a time like this. Ben’s eyes widened as the thought sunk in, it hit him so much harder to hear someone else voice a thought he himself had. It came alive in the form of someone else’s speech. Beverly could sense this, and looked to Bill, and then to Ben, and her stare lingered on Ben. “Relax. Bill and Richie turn 18 soonish, and, I’m a girl. And, in terms of smarts, one girl makes up for like, the 4 extra we need.” She smiled in a way only she could do; equal parts calming, confident, playful; and fully reassuring. She was always so sure of herself, it was infectious. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben felt a faint smile tug at his lips as well, and a blush start to glow on his cheeks- a blush he hoped Beverly didn’t notice. He gladly took her word for it, and let her reassure him. And the confidence, as false at it may have been, gave him the strength to continue, and instruct them to all grab each other’s hands, creating a circle around Stanley- it made the aforementioned boy in the circle’s skin crawl. He was nervous as all hell... no pun intended.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like I should also mention- this is usually preformed by a Rabbi!” Ben said for the last time, his last disclaimer of sorts. Stanley couldn’t give a shit either way, he was scared. He just wanted this to be over as soon as possible, so he could finally be rid of this fucking demon. “Shalom, Benjamin.” Stanley said, fear stricken and a bit sarcastic, his way of saying: “I could give a damn! Let’s get on with it.” and Ben took the hint, and laughed apologetically. “Okay, so, everyone’s gonna repeat after me!” He instructed, just as he had the first time. Stanley clamped his eyes shut, he was too scared to watch. He was too scared to open his eyes up again to realize it hadn’t worked. He was terrified in general, he wanted this over and done with. He was ready to put this all behind them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You all need to say this, after I do, three times. It doesn’t have to be in perfect unison, but please, try your damn best-“ Ben reiterated, feeling a bit uncomfortable using ‘damn’ for emphasis after the fact. Mentioning anything related to damnation in this context just felt... wrong. The group nodded profusely, wanting this to be over as soon as Stanley did. </p>
<p>“He who dwells in the covert of the Most High will lodge in the shadow of the Almighty. I shall say of the Lord that He is my shelter and my fortress, my God in Whom I trust. For He will save you from the snare that traps from the devastating pestilence. With His wing He will cover you, and under His wings you will take refuge; His truth is an encompassing shield. You will not fear the fright of night, the arrow that flies by day; Pestilence that prowls in darkness, destruction that ravages at noon. A thousand will be stationed at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it will not approach you. You will but gaze with your eyes, and you will see the annihilation of the wicked. For you said "The Lord is my refuge"; the Most High you made your dwelling. No harm will befall you, nor will a plague draw near to your tent. For He will command His angels on your behalf to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you, lest your foot stumble on a stone. On a young lion and a cobra you will tread; you will trample the young lion and the serpent. For he yearns for Me, and I shall rescue him; I shall fortify him because he knows My name. He will call Me and I shall answer him; I am with him in distress; I shall rescue him and I shall honor him. With length of days I shall satiate him, and I shall show him My salvation.” </p>
<p>Ben said, his voice quivered as much as his hands did as he held the old, worn book. They repeated after Ben, twice. Stanley seemed to writhe on the floor in increasing agony every time they repeated it, so much so that Bill wanted to stop. He winced in pain every time Stanley cried out, feeling pain vicariously for him- every time he hurt, he did as well. It touched the group, but they all looked at him square in the eyes to remind him: this is for the greater good. And it was a tough reality to accept, but Bill did so anyways, and reluctantly, he continued. They repeated for a third time, and Ben placed the narrower end of the Shofar between his lips and blew as hard as he could. He tried to follow as the books he read instructed, trying to hit certain tones and certain notes, rather than one continuous sound. He continued this for several moments, hoping his lungs wouldn’t give out on him. “Why does Haystack get to do that?” Richie asked, trying to lighten the mood, but as always, the concept of “Theres a time and place for everything.” was lost on him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up, Richie!” they all yelled collectively, Bill looked the most mad, rather than the rest of the group, who were more so just annoyed. Bill was worried that Richie’s question took them out of the moment or something, and that this wouldn’t have worked. Richie felt a bit bad as that realization came to him as well. He would’ve threw his hands up in mock defence if it weren’t essential they all held hands to maintain the circle. Richie made a quick apology, that fell to a whisper as he watched what was happening in front of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stanley was no longer writhing on the ground in agony with a pained, scrunched expression. Now, he began hovering, his body jerking and being pulled in every direction, now a foot or so off of the ground. It was terrifying to watch, Stanley was vacant. His eyes had completely rolled back into his skull, revealing just the crisp whites of them, and Bill missed their deep brown colour more than ever. The only thing that gave them colour now was the bright red, thin veins scattered in the sea of vast, vacant white. Stanley murmured meaningless gibberish to himself, chants and incantations that made no sense to the rest of them. His voice was menacingly deep now, in no way sounding human. He was in a state similar to this when he had bit Bill, completely and totally not there. The demon was fighting to stay inside of its vessel, and although the rest of the group looked panicked, Ben took this to be a good sign. Scary, sure, scarring, most definitely- but, the books had said that this was normal in exorcisms like this. He was on the right track, everything was going to plan, so far. If, you could call anything about this set up a plan. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He set the horn down gently as he could. He fumbled to pick up his scattered notes from the ground, droplets of water from the wet tiles stained the stark white lined paper. He asked it a question, the books had said to communicate with the demon was the next step in getting it to leave. Richie looked shock as Ben opened his mouth to speak, “You’re not actually going to try to talk to it? Are you?!?” He yelled, looking at Stan while he was speaking to Ben, unable to take his eyes off of his possessed friend’s body. It contorted and moved and spoke in ways that weren’t human, you wanted to look away but you couldn’t. It was like a demonically possessed car wreck. Richie couldn’t believe anything about this, much less that Ben was actually going to speak to whatever was doing that to Stanley. “You fucking asshole- don’t call him an it,” Bill snapped, yelling at Richie for daring to say such a thing. Richie rolled his eyes, Bill was really getting on his nerves these past couple of weeks. “No, you fucking dumbass. I’m talking about the demon, not Stanley. Get your head out of your ass-“ and that clarification made Bill even more angry, he was about to call Richie even more names, when Ben interrupted them and brought them both back to reality. They argued with the ferocity and candour of two 7 year olds who just learned how to swear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both of you, shut up! It’s the only way to get it to leave him, the books say so!” and just as soon as Ben finished speaking, they shut right up and let Ben do what he didn’t want to do, what they all knew he had to do. He prepared his first question, and hoped he could get this demon to somehow leave him. He had a tough enough time telling a waitress she messed up his coffee order, he had no idea how the hell he was going to convince a flesh eating demon to leave its mortal vessel. But, he was going to have to try. “Why are you in the body of the possessed?” Ben asked, reading from his notes and trying to sound as calm as possible. The possessed puppeted form of Stanley’s body laughed menacingly, making everyone feel on edge, and made the hair on the back of their necks stand up. It made Stanley’s body point at Richie, “Because the boy over there summoned me to possess it. I was summoned on the night of the 14th of September.” It made Stanley answer in a voice that wasn’t his. Bill hated hearing it speak, and he hated seeing it completely control Stanley’s body, but, he knew this was the only way. Richie felt awful hearing that demon talk about it that way, it made it dawn on him that... he had a point, he hated to hear it. It was inescapable, and the guilt was crushing. He wanted that fucking demon out of Stanley’s body so he could make amends already, and finally atone properly. “Could this thing go any slower?” Richie thought begrudgingly, but knew better than to say out loud. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you continue to inhabit this mortal body?” Ben asked again, and the demon was quick to make Stanley answer. “For the blood, and for the flesh I can acquire.” The demon spoke, and Ben was surprised that this was going so well. It gave him a confidence he had never had before, and spoke again without even referencing his notes. “You shall know the taste of blood no longer. I command you to relenquish your hold, and leave immediately. The power of all that is good, and all that is holy commands it to be so.” He spoke with a level of authority and confidence that impressed Beverly. It was unfamiliar in Ben’s voice, but strangely felt at home there. She hoped to see Ben that sure of himself more often, it was refreshing, and, she was proud of him for being able to be so brave in such short notice to be able to help out a friend. The demon groaned from within Stanley’s body, it was growing weaker and weaker. And if Ben remembered from his reading correctly, it was weak to the point it would leave. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everyone, close your eyes and cover your mouth so it can’t enter you after it leaves him!” Ben warned, and they all did so, closing their eyes and covering the mouths, and ducking for cover. They couldn’t see what’s as happening, but the demon did leave Stanley’s body at Ben’s final command, leaving him for good. And, sensing there were no available entries into the other vessels in the room, it vanished into the air, as if it was never there. It went back into the underworld, leaving the rest of the world to deal with its destruction; it was vanquished, and dying as it retreated.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as the demon left his body in the form of a puff of black, menacing smoke, he was dropped to the ground as the spirit that possessed him released him. He winced in the slight pain of the tile hitting his back, momentarily gasping for breath as it knocked the wind out of him. He had levitated a few feet higher in the last minutes of his possession, so the fall hurt a bit more than it would have. He gasped for air like a fish out of water, seemingly unable to breathe as he he adjusted. He adjusted to a life without the demon possessing him, adjusting to a life a few months ago he considered his normal. Stanley was happy to make these adjustments, he was so ready to forget the taste of flesh, and have bloodlusting he a distant memory of the past that would soon collect dust on the mantel of his mind. He hurt all over, he was bruised, he was hurt, and no doubt mentally scarred for life- but, strangely enough, he felt better than he had in months. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill broke free of holding Beverly and Eddie’s hands, and broke up the circle. He ran up to Stanley, and towered over him as he asked the still laying down boy, “How do you feel?” Nervous as all hell as he asked, terrified of what the answer could possibly be. Stanley ran his own tongue over the bottoms of his teeth, and felt so much relief when he felt that they were normal shaped once more. They were no longer inhumanely sharp, this nightmare was finally over. Stanley used all his remaining strength to smile, though it felt more effortless than ever before. “All better, I feel all better,” was all he said, and that was all he needed to say. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill felt so overcome with every kind of emotion, and felt as if he could cry. He grabbed Stanley’s hand and helped him up, and immediately pulled him into his open arms as soon as Stanley was on his feet and standing. Bill grabbed him tighter than he had ever grabbed him, picking him up and spinning him as he hugged him, never wanting to let him go again. This was the real Stanley, he was finally with the real Stanley after so many months. He hugged and kissed him like he hadn’t seen him in months, because in a way; he hadn’t. They were all so happy for them both, even Mike, who was so relieved for them both he couldn’t even be jealous. The group breathed a collective sigh of relief, for real this time. They felt complete, they felt whole. And Stanley felt better than he had in months, and finally kissed Bill as himself, completely, and solely himself. Bill peppered kisses all over Stanley’s face as he was overcome by overpowering happiness. Stanley giggled, “Why are you kissing me so much?” He asked, though not at all complaining. “Making up for lost time,” Bill explained simply, nearly rejoicing as he spoke. You could tell if you listened closely that Bill was nearing tears, happy tears of course. He was so happy to have him back. He was so happy that Stanley could be free again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill held him close to him for what felt like hours though it was really only for a few moments. He held him was the weight of the world came off of his shoulders. He whispered in Stanley’s ear, for only him to hear. “I promise, the second I turn 18. We are out of this city.” It was a quiet promise, he was determined to have this never happen again. Their demon hunting days were over, they were never to dance with death again. But, Bill let what he just said sunk in, and spoke again to rephrase it. Stanley stayed silent, letting him have all the time he needed. “Wait, uhhh... no, I guess not. The second we graduate, we are out of this fucking town. To hell with New York, we’re getting out of here before college. Portland, and then, New York once university starts. Obviously we’ll see Richie and Eddie, and room with them since they’re going to NYU as well. Just like we planned because, it’d be rude to cancel. But, um, it’s gonna be just us this summer. We can stay in a cabin in Portland, or something- by a lake, and it’ll be cozy. And it’ll rain a lot, and we can listen to it rain, under blankets and stuff inside. And you can watch birds, and I can write, and you can watch me while I write. Most importantly, I’ll be with you, and you’ll be with me. And I’ll keep you safe, and it’ll be just us, like it always should’ve been. And I-“ Stanley held him tightly and buried his face into the crook of his neck, ironically, the same side he’d bitten previously. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill stopped talking at the gesture of affection, the ghosting of his gentle breath against his tender skin made him go a bit fuzzy. His mind was racing at a mile a minute, and it felt nice to be silent for awhile. It felt nice to simply be. No worries, no stress, that all was gone. Richie watched as they hugged, and something compelled him to join, and make it a group hug. He wrapped his arms around both of them, silently saying he was sorry. It was a surprise, but it was a welcomed surprise. They accepted his open arms with, well, open arms- their way of saying all was forgiven, as well as their own apologies. Eddie soon joined, and hugged his 3 oldest friends like it had been years since he’d done so. This was his way of saying it was all worth it, and he’d do it all again if it meant he could have his 3 best friends still in his life. And, he knew they’d all do the same for them. He loved them all, and his hug showed that. And Ben joined, and soon to follow was Mike. And lastly, not wanting to miss out on a bonding moment, Beverly did too. </p>
<p>And they stayed like that for awhile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They went through hell and back to get here. It was a tough period of time on all of them, it nearly destroyed their town and their friend group in the process. The end result would be treasured though, maybe even looked back on fondly like all of their other aforementioned memories. A lot of bad decisions had been made in Richie Tozier’s back yard over the course of their friendship, none with the magnitude of this one though. Like the time Bill and Richie dared each other to jump off of Richie’s porch roof and they each broke a leg in the summer between 4th and 5th grade, or the time Richie nearly set his shed on fire on the forth of July trying to light fireworks to impress Eddie, or the time Richie was trying to teach Stanley how to drive and Richie, being the great teacher he was, accidentally ran into his neighbour’s fence trying to teach Stanley to parallel park. OR the time they made the mistake of having a piñata at a party, and Richie nearly gave Beverly a minor concussion when he hit her head with a bat, thinking it was said piñata. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All of those stories were pretty stupid- remarkably stupid if they were being honest, and are only scratching the surface, and all those stories, were best saved for another time. None of those occurrences, as stupid and dangerous as they were, could ever hold a candle to those. This was awful, this was so fucking awful they couldn’t even wrap their minds around how terrible it was. This permanently changed their outlook on their lives, it changed their perception of right and wrong and what it meant to operate in between those two binary extremes, it changed their views on life and death. But, it never once changed their view permanently on each other. Sure, the last few months had been, no pun intended, hell. But, this hug they were engulfed in felt pretty nice. And if you would have told either Richie or Beverly especially that the group was going to do something worse than ‘the Piñata incident’ any date before September 14th, they would’ve both laughed and called you a liar, so, this was a strange couple of months to say the very least. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hug slowly broke up, as they all had better things to do than hug in an abandoned building, as sentimental as the moment was. Finally, the thanks that were due, were finally paid. Though, Bill and Stanley still felt that they were indebted to their friends forever because of their selfless actions. “Thank you guys, so fucking much. Seriously, thank you. You guys gave up your whole nights to help us, I really can’t thank any of you enough.” Bill thanked, smiling warmly at all of his friends, looking each of them in the eyes sincerely. They all, of course said that it was more tha fine, but Stanley and Bill still didn’t feel that it was. “You all have put up with so much from me, I don’t know where to begin. Like, holy shit, you guys are the best friends in the entire world. You’ve done more than I’ve ever deserved, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you,” Stanley said his own thanks, the response was of course the same, he was met with reassurance and kind words from his friends. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, both Bill and Stanley felt they needed to do more, that their friends were owed more. They didn’t know how it would feel to be in their shoes and they hoped they never had to find out. But, they knew they’d do the same thing they had done if they ever did have to find out, and their friends knew that. And, that knowledge was what made their apologies so easy to accept, it’s what made them so unnecessary in the first place. They did stuff like that for each other, that’s what they did. This was Beverly’s way of repaying them both for washing her bathroom when it was covered with blood only their friend group could see, and her was of repaying Stanley specifically for using his last 50 cents at the laundromat across from her apartment to was the rags they’d used to clean with. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They didn’t keep score in this friend group, because; sure, it was Stanley and Bill’s possessions today. But it could’ve easily even a ghost in Beverly’s house the next week, or a werewolf infestation in Mike’s family farm the week after that. In a town like Derry, anything could happen. And in a friend group like what the losers’ had, they were ready for those uncertain ‘anything’s. The only thing certain in a town like Derry, was that they’d always have each other’s backs, through the easy stuff, and the hard stuff. It was just very unfortunate for them that unlike most teenage friend groups, their problems mostly concerned demons. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill continued where they’d both left off, and spoke up again. “Especially thank you, Ben. You literally fucking saved our lives, I have no idea how to ever thank you.” He looked directly at Ben, who blushed and smiled right back at him. Stanley agreed wholeheartedly, “Yes, thank you so much Ben. Consider your math homework done from now until forever. And even that’s not even enough. Thank you, seriously. Thank you, thank you, thank you, times a million.” Stanley felt wrong even offering him that, as if literally saving his life and expelling a demon from his body was equal to math homework completion. As if that was an equal trade off. But still, it was a place to start, and it was the only place he had to start for the time being. And the more Stanley thought about it, it would be worse to not start at all, than to start somewhere shitty. He’d think of something better soon, he thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben laughed, and reassured Stanley. He could tell by the look on his face that he genuinely felt bad and felt guilty about this whole situation. “There’s no need to thank me, I know you both would’ve done the same for me. Really, it’s fine...” Ben replied, trailing off as he thought. He made Stanley feel a bit better, but not completely better, but still, just as he thought before: that was a start. Ben continued with his point, “But, I will take you up on that homework deal.” he mused, which made Stanley giggle a bit, he was happy hanging out with his friends could feel this good again. There were no tensions, he wasn’t preoccupied with worrying about what his friends knew and didn’t know about him, and he wasn’t worried about wether his friends would hate him or did hate him because of his possession. That was all behind them now, thanks to Ben and the rest of the group that was all history. Things could be good again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Ben... now that this is over, I think we have something else to settle...” Beverly waited until it was silent so she wasn’t inturupting anything, only speaking when she knew the moment was right. His attention was immediately drawn to her, separating from Stanley and Bill with ease; like his gaze was never on them in the first place. It was as though his eyes were only meant to view her. She was beautiful, and now that he could fully admire her beauty because the moment was right, he cursed the circumstances that kept him from doing so in the first place. Her red hair swished every time she moved her face, and it had a slight waviness to it. Her hair, much like her beauty, was effortlessly stunning, and Ben was willing to bet she’d spent no time at all on it. She was as radiant as she always was; even in the dark deserted pool house, she shined. Maybe at most she’d brushed it, but that had to have been it. She didn’t take herself to seriously, her beauty was refreshing and natural; making it hit you like a punch to the stomach every time you saw her. </p>
<p>You couldn’t help but take notice of her, or at least, Ben couldn’t anyways.</p>
<p> She wore a flowing emerald green dress that complimented her figure in all of the best ways, the skirt of the dress ended just above her knee. The fabric swayed with every movement of her hips. The colour complimented her pale skin, and her bright hair so well, it was a combination that strangely worked really well. Though that was no surprise, Beverly could pull anything off, her beauty  was so versatile in that way. She stunned him, so much so, he almost forgot to answer her. He pulled himself back to reality after seemingly been off in his own little world, staring off into space, thinking all about her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s that?” He finally answered, hoping it didn’t take him as long as he thought that it had. It really didn’t, that was just the insecurity of his crush on her talking. “I think you owe me a dance,” She replied with a wink, smiling cheerfully as she nodded towards the window they’d both came through, hinting at them leaving to finally go to the dance. They hadn’t even planned to go together the pieces just seemed to strangely fall into place. Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and his face grew hot with a blush he was already embarrassed about before anyone even so much as looked at him differently because of. Judging by the temperature his skin radiated, his cheeks no doubt glowed with a red that rivalled the deepest hues of red in Beverly’s flowing hair in its intensity. Ben couldn’t believe this, and wasn’t even sure as to what to say. “I’m in my pyjamas,” He said meekly, stuttering in a way that reminded him of Bill in his youth. Ben mentally kicked himself, that wasn’t at all what he wanted to say, he couldn’t believe he’d actually just said that. He wasn’t sure why he’d tried to talk himself out of something he wanted more than anything in the world, self sabotage was a colour that looked all too good on him it seemed- and old tendencies died hard. The losers spectating this all shared an internal sigh, and wanted to help out if they could, they wanted these two to get together for so long. And there Ben was, in true Ben fashion, saying something he didn’t mean that would mess up his chances. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-And Bill’s covered in blood, no excuse, Haystack, go have fun!” Richie said, patting him on the shoulder harshly, making him jump a bit. He slapped him on the back, and gestured for him to just go already, what was the worst that could happen. He’d lectured Ben for years to just go for Beverly already, especially now that he was with Eddie. His whole argument was, if he could work up the nerve to confess his unconventional, same sex feelings for Eddie; Ben should be able to work up the nerve to confess his conventional, opposite sex ones for Beverly. And finally, Ben had his chance to, and finally, he took it. Beverly said her goodbyes to everyone before leaving through the window, Ben following very closely behind her. A thought occurred to him at the very last second, and turned around to look at Stanley, and gestured to the things he’d brought with him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you bring that home with you?” He asked, apologetically even though he had no reason to be apologizing. They were Stanley’s after all. Stanley laughed, “I got it covered, Ben, you’ve done enough... go already!” He laughed, and Ben laughed too, and excitedly hurried off to catch up with Beverly. If his exorcism was the catalyst that brought Ben and Beverly together after all of this time, Stanley was almost thankful Richie made that stupid dare with Eddie all of those months ago that led to all of this. Almost. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now you’ll have to explain to your dad why you brought antique Judaica to your ‘totally straight I promise’ no homo prom gathering with Bill,” Richie looked over at Stanley, once Ben was out of earshot. And Stanley laughed, and was willing to not talk about the events of earlier that night, and bring them up later. He was fully prepared to laugh along with the joke and move on, but Bill had other plans. He put his hand around Stanley’s shoulder and boasted about what he had done, “Actually! No, his parents know that we’re dating now. He came out to his parents tonight,” He said, bragging about Stanley to anyone who would listen. He was so truly proud of him, he thought he was so brave that everyone should know about his accomplishment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike, Richie and Eddie stood in front of the couple, completely stunned. All three of them were totally astonished that he’d done that, so astonished they almost didn’t believe it. He was the first one out of their entire friend group to come out to their parents, he was kind of inspiring in that way. Depending on how his parents took it, it gave them hope that maybe following with that same course of action. An accepting future seemed attainable if Stanley was in fact able to attain it. They hung on his every word with baited breath as they waited for further clarification and explanation. “Tell us the whole story!!” Eddie inquired, cautious with how he spoke, treading lightly. He was careful not to sound too excited, in case the story had an unhappy ending- but was also careful to not speak in a dull, melancholic sort of way, just to make sure Stanley knew they were all interested. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a touchy subject, and they were all figuring it out for the first time with each other. They knew of no other gay people, so, they had to figure this all out on their own. They were their own examples. Bill looked at Stanley, and gave him the floor so to speak, to be able to tell his story if he so chose. Bill wanted to tell it, to hype Stanley up more than he knew Stanley himself would it he was telling his own story, but, also knew that this was his story to tell, so he tried his best to shut himself up. There was also an element of vicariousness in his pride of Stanley’s story with a very happy ending. He relished in it going well for Stanley because he knew his own story would not end so happily when the dreaded day came when he had to come out to his parents. Wether in the form of a note, a phone call or an in-person confession; he knew his parents would not receive the news that he was any variation of ‘queer’ well. But until then, he could find solace in the fact that at least Stanley’s parents accepted him, and his relationship with Bill- thereby accepting him by default, which was good enough for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will, later though. It’s a rather long story and I really don’t want to tell it in a place... like this.” Stanley answered, sort of smiling apologetically because he knew that that wasn’t the answer his friends wanted to hear. Eddie returned the smile, sympathetically, and Mike and Richie did as well. Eddie replied as well, speaking for all 3 of the others, “That’s totally understandable... this place is...” he trailed off, words failing him as he searched for the most accurate way to describe this aquamarine mausoleum for a time long since gone by. This was where swim lessons and 1980s childhood memories went to die, leaving nothing but overgrowth, moss and a damp, moldy odour in its wake. “Gross?” Mike answered for him, “Disgusting?” Bill continued with that same thought. “A literal fucking swamp?” Richie suggested, speaking in a unique brand of crass synonymous with him. “Probably going to cave in at any moment?” Stanley suggested too. They all shared a much needed laugh, and Eddie nodded, agreeing with each of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They stayed like that for awhile, making easy small talk amongst each other. Well, as easy as small talk could be after two exorcisms took place, and while Bill’s suit was still drenched in blood. “Well, I guess I should be going too.” Mike announced to the 4 other boys, referencing Ben and Beverly’s departure so far after they had left that the reference almost didn’t make sense, but the group understood regardless. They nodded, and said their goodbyes and thanks to him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you so much for coming in such short notice, we both really appreciate it.” Bill heartfeltedly thanked Mike, he wrapped his arm around Stanley’s shoulders in a way it was obvious he was speaking for them both. Bill was really grateful for Mike, he’d been there and kept him company during this entire mess, he really lent on him during this time and it meant a great deal to him. That gratitude was reflected in the fond look in his blue eyes as he gazed back at him. “Yes, thank you a million times over.” Stanley said just as warmly, though for obvious reasons it didn’t touch Mike in the way Bill’s thanks did. Stanley beamed at him, and Mike returned the smile, but it was a bit more contrived than the smile he gave Bill. Mike turned to leave, and said his goodbyes one last time, “Bye Stan, Eddie, and Trashmouth,” Mike called out, and Richie laughed at the use of the nickname, it lightened the mood a bit more, which was needed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mike had an easy way about him, lightening any mood was so simple for him, it came naturally. Richie almost replied, “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to mushmouth here? ‘You forget about him?” and he’d point to Bill as he said it, and he already predicted Bill playfully shoving him for the use of that nickname, he’d never been too fond of it. But Richie didn’t say that, it stayed as just a thought, because of course, Mike didn’t forget about him. He saved his goodbye for last, because it meant the most to him. “Bye Bill, I’m really glad you’re safe” Mike said, it wasn’t a slight to Stanley, though you might be able to interpret it as that, he meant nothing by it so no one heard it with malice. Mike didn’t have an ounce of malice in him, the group knew him too well to assume anything like that. Bill didn’t understand the extent of how Mike felt about him, so he just smiled and waved his hand slightly in a non-audible goodbye. Stanley’s heart hurt for him, so picked up his slack and said goodbye on his behalf. If Bill could say thank you on his behalf, he could say a goodbye on Bill’s behalf.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bye Mike, thank you so much.” Stanley said for Bill, saying it with seriousness, he wanted Mike to know how much he meant to both of them, Bill specifically- he just had a hard time voicing his feelings, and interpreting the feelings of others sometimes. “Yah, you’d better leave us to it, we have a lot to discuss,” Richie laughed trying to cut the serious tone the conversation had switched to. He was a bit nervous, but also looking forward for discussing their issues. He was happy to patch things up, and also to maybe hear a few apologies he felt that he was owed. Richie was more than willing to make the apologies he knew he owed for the sake of saving his best friendships. And Mike laughed with him, and nodded, knowing he didn’t know the half of it. He knew that this had hit their bonds harder than it had the rest of the group. He didn’t know the full extent of it though, since it wasn’t particularly his business he felt bad prying into it. He only knew what Bill had told him, and from what Bill had told him, he knew it wasn’t good, he was more than happy to give them the space to work that whole mess out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So he smiled fondly at all of them, before leaving the same way he came, through the window. He was happy that they were finally going to make up, and he was happy to finally be out of that abandoned pool house. He hoped that it would be the last time he, and his friends were ever in there again. And luckily, it was. All was well in their little group, for now at least. And though they knew things wouldn’t be perfect forever, they’d treasure perfection as long as they were allowed to have it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and also, i kind of wanted to briefly explain my thought process, and what some of the relationships represent, in terms of this being a jennifer’s body AU. </p>
<p>stanley &amp; bill were supposed to be a take on jennifer &amp; needy; stanley obviously being jennifer and bill being needy. as both were coming of age friendships turned into something more, except in my version the couple is actually together. and the dynamic of stanley becoming popular in high school, while bill didn’t (similar to the dynamic of jennifer and needy), was fun to explore and something i wanted to get across- not quite to the extent in the real jennifer’s body, though. i didn’t want to marysue-ify (for lack of a better term) stan’s character. stan &amp; richie can also represent jennifer and needy in some aspects as well (platonically, of course), but that’s all up to how you interpret it. that’s kind of how i saw it, but again, all up to you. i referenced it overtly with the best friend necklaces :) </p>
<p>bill and mike was also supposed to represent the other side of jennifer and needy’s relationship, where mike is jennifer and bill is still the ‘needy’ of the two of them. they represent the unrequited, tragically beautiful side of jennifer and needy, wherein mike has loved bill since childhood, and bill has not felt the same- much like the canon version of jennifer and needy. but again, that’s my interpretation of jennifer’s body, and subsequently, my own story- so, if you saw things differently, that’s perfectly fine too. that’s just where my head was at during the writing process.</p>
<p>i also think there’s something to be said about the parallels between jennifer’s body and the IT franchise. both having LGBT themes, but, both creators were too pussy to fully commit. both are ‘horror movies’ but, not classically scary so they weren’t liked by audiences outside of their fandom, etc, etc. i would even argue that IT is the jennifer’s body of this decade, it’s just appreciated in its time. so, with all of that being said, this was very fun to write, i’m a bit sad to see it end :,) </p>
<p>thank you for reading this, i adore you &lt;3</p>
<p>there’s still two more chapters tho so 👀, be on the lookout for the ‘deleted scenes’ and the epilogue</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don’t proof read cus i cant stand reading back what i’ve already written so. sorry if this sucks or whatever lol- i did spend a lot of time on this so?? i hope this isn’t completely unbearable. and YES there’s smut in each chapter cus i feel like i have to reward you for baring with me through my gratuitous writing lol</p><p>side note, i refused to call each chapter done until it was at least over 10k words (anything less imo is literally a pamphlet. like. who tf wants that) so! enjoy my blood sweat and tears </p><p>and, many of these chapters are so (painfully) long because in my opinion, you can’t explore kink properly in anything shorter than 4k words, and, in my opinion 4k is a very.. low bar. generally, i don’t read anything less than 5.5k, so, if i wouldn’t read it, why put it out into the world, yk?</p><p>hit me up!! let’s be friends!! find me on:<br/>lesbouris.tumblr.com   (my art blog!)<br/>charmac rightz!#5674 (my discord!)<br/>i would like more ppl to scream about IT to :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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